Magically Troublicious
by KorosuKa
Summary: Russia visits England for little reasons. But those reasons lead to a magical mishap. Now Russia is like a memoryless puppy, almost literally. How will England take care of the mess that has been made? Rated T for safety. Russiaxfem!England.
1. Chapter 1

Hello there. This is my story about the rare pairing Russiaxfem!England. I know it's not common and seems strange, but nothing's impossible. I'm not too confident in my skills of England, so please, correct me! Anything that you think can be better, tell me! Advise, critique, reviews, ... everything that can help me is welcome. I'll be working hard on this story. Do please remember that English is not my native language, I don't live in an English speaking nation either. I'm not sure about when I'll be updating, probably once a week or every two weeks. I hope that you'll be pleased with what you'll read!  
Enjoy~

* * *

Chapter I

It had been a long day, a long conference. England sighed in relief when the final subject, Antarctica, had been finished. She started gathering her papers when a certain American bumped in.

"Heya!" he happily greeted her.

"You've bothered me enough during the meeting, America. Leave me alone", she complained, her headache worsening because of his presence.

The tall nation only laughed, loudly, and then laid his hand on her shoulder. "Are we getting old?"

She shot him a poisonous glare.

"Dude, err, dudette, chill! I was just kidding!" he stated with a grin and turned away from her to disappear as fast as he had appeared.

She was glad he went off to annoy someone else. Slowly she was packing her notes, documents and other into her bag when a large hand rested on her shoulder once again.

"America!" she barked, but stiffened when she saw it was not good old Alfred standing next to her. She blinked and her cheeks turned bright pink.

"Russia, da?" the tall man said.

Unlike America's loud voice, Ivan's tone was slightly softer, lower and much deeper. It was less disturbing for her headache. The same, sinister smile was drawn on his lips as always. She started to feel a bit uncomfortable when looking at it.

"Yes, Russia," she said, wanting to get to the point.

"There are a few matters, concerning some, specific things."

The vague terms he used didn't make any light bulb appear above the Brit's head. "Your point?"

He smiled a bit wider, which made a shiver tiptoe all the way over her spine. His fingers danced over the edge of a few documents he held underneath his arm, and he took a black folder from between the others. There was nothing written on it, just plain black. She frowned as his fingers tapped the document in his hands. Then her eyes widened and her lips parted, "Ah!" Alice had completely forgotten about it. "Yes, right, I'm sorry."

"No problem. I suppose we handle it at your place, da?"

She was a bit taken aback by his intruding statement, that didn't seem to leave place for arguments, but she didn't want to argue about it anyway.

"Sure", she sighed, and decided her day couldn't get much worse.

"I can give you a ride", England stated as she ran her fingers through her golden blond hair; the wind was playing with her locks.

They stood outside, on the car park in front of the building where they had spent almost an entire day.

"Isn't necessary, I'll drive behind you", the Russian said and easily fetched his car keys while walking off to his black car.

She shrugged. It seemed like he was not the person she would have a discussion with anywhere soon. A sigh rolled over her lips as she entered her car. The motor roared when she turned the keys, and she slowly drove out of the car park. The conference had been held in London, so she perfectly knew her way, and she could drive on the left side of the road, which she of course preferred. A big, black car, that looked like it came directly from some secret agency, drove behind her. She swiftly drove over the roads. Though looking at Russia's huge car through her little mirror made her feel a bit awkward, as if she was being stalked.

She lived in a nice mansion; it was a bit comparable with a very small castle. It was rather old, she admitted. A part of the house was pretty much a scene directly taken from a century or two ago. Even though she had modern technology, her furniture and most colour schemes and patterns were still classy. America had sometimes called her a granny for living in this place.

"Tea?" she asked as she took off her jacket after entering the house. She gestured for him to take his jacket off as well but he shook his head.

"No, thank you", he answered her question, sort of politely.

She nodded, "I'm going to make some tea, you can sit down here."

They walked into her living room and he sat down on one of the two soft, little couches. Alice continued to walk to the kitchen, and filled the kettle with water. While it was warming up she took the tealeaves she preferred and some scones.

A few minutes later she sat down on the couch opposing Russia, with a cup of tea in her hand.

"So, what do we need to go through?" she said slowly.

Every few years, Russia would bump in about this matter. _Magic_. Since Russia knew England was capable of magic, more specifically black magic, he was sent here by his boss, or some other important person, every once in a few years.

"Nothing new. Just going through updates and renewing the contract."

Updates in magic, it sounded strange to her. All she had to do was tell him that no new kinds of magic were performed, no important changes had been made, and no new, dangerous or high-level spells had been performed that could involve Russia. Of course they were very superficial about their magic; the interest for their own doings was much bigger than for each other's magic. She only had to write it down, confirm everything in the documents, and afterwards renew the contract. The contract was just a single paper in which England promised to perform no black magic, or any other kinds of magic, that would in any way involve the nation of Russia. She went through the other papers, her eyes dancing over the letters. Russia watched her, silently, with a blank face. It took about 10 minutes to get through everything. After that had been done, the tall man would normally thank her politely and leave. When he got the papers though, he turned to her again, and didn't get up.

"England", he mused and his usual smile returned to his face, "Can I see your magic?"

Her eyebrows knitted together in a frown. She didn't know whether he was trustworthy at all, and also wondered where the sudden interest came from.

"Why would you want to see it?" she asked, as politely as she could.

To her surprise, the man shrugged, "I've been coming for a couple of years already, but I never saw it. Besides, I'm bored, it sounds like nice entertainment."

He sounded like a curious child, and it seemed like it was impossible to read him; his reactions were usually unpredictable and confusing. Alice huffed, "My magic is no entertainment."

He smiled brightly, amused, but it didn't look anywhere near safe. "I don't think your magic is capable of much anyway. I just wanted to confirm to myself that you form completely no threat."

A vague, challenging emotion played in his eyes. She felt a spark of anger burning inside her chest. Being looked down upon was one of the things she disliked pretty badly. America, France, even her own brothers, she always felt how they all looked down upon her. Sometimes it could frustrate her very much. She had once ruled over one of the greatest empires, and she had once been a pirate that owned the seas. Her self-esteem had been cringed many times; she wouldn't show it at any cost though. She was usually fine with their stupid comments, not caring for them. Russia was succeeding in intimidating her though.

"I am perfectly capable of doing whatever I want."

She might not be the strongest or greatest, but she was certainly a nation one should have respect for, or at least that was her opinion. Russia only laughed, softly, darkly. He was laughing at her. Alice twitched, annoyed and pissed off. She would show him that he was wrong.

"Fine," She clenched her small hands into fists, "I'll show you what real magic is!"

Russia raised an eyebrow, his smile still in place.

* * *

The sound of chalk scratching over stone was almost the only sound in the room they had gone to. The walls were covered with high bookshelves, filled with tons of thick, old, magic books.

"I don't understand why you use circles, pentagrams and others. Can't you use magic without?" Russia asked, almost genuinely interested.

England wondered whether the man suffered from severe mood swings, going from cruel and rude to childish or curious, without the slightest effort. Maybe he was schizophrenic. Maybe he was bloody insane.

"I can, but most spells ask a lot of energy. Through circles and such the performance is much easier, and often better."

He didn't say anything in response, and continued watching her draw the figures, following every movement of hers precisely. Even though his presence made her feel awkward, she did like that he seemed to be truly interested in her magic. England knew that he wouldn't admit anything that would please someone though, certainly not if it would somehow please her. She liked observing people, and reading the mood or body language, which she partly learned from her old friend Japan. This made her able to noticed certain little things, that showed Russia might actually be a little fascinated by England's magic. Russia was Russia though, and he was usually hard to read.

His violet eyes followed her small figure, observing every movement, and the concentrated look on her face. Honestly, he hadn't expected her to actually show him her magic. He was very curious, but would never say that out loud. Russia certainly didn't like it when her magic creatures were around. The unicorn, a dwarf and some other magical being, and of course that flying bunny with it's outstanding green colour. It was terribly annoying to ignore their constant talking or bothersome doings, but he wouldn't admit he could see them too. When he was using magic, it often was a quite painful case, since indeed the spells sucked up his energy or even wounded him. But the spells or curses he used often didn't make use of extra requirements, meaning he could use them whenever and wherever he'd want to.

The circle Alice was drawing seemed to be complex, and it would take a while before it would be completely finished. After a few minutes he got bored of just standing there and watching. Ivan was surprisingly easily bored. He was disciplined enough to not show it, if he wanted to. Now though, he allowed himself to seek for something interesting. His eyes darted over the many awkwardly shaped bottles with elixirs, poisons and others. One had a drawing of a puppy on it. He carefully took it, while making sure England didn't saw it. It was a rough little sketch of a dog; he wondered whether the Brit had drawn it. He heard England mumbling some words to herself or the circle, but was too busy eying the funny looking fluid inside the fragile bottle.

"Russia!"

Her sharp, high voice startled him a little. The thin glass slipped through his fingers and shattered apart on the floor. He cursed underneath his breath, taking a step back. For a split second he looked at her like a little boy that had been busted. The liquid on the floor started shimmering.

"You idiot! What have you done?!" she yelled frustrated.

The circle she drew was already activated, and was supporting the working of the elixir or he had dropped.

"I don't know!" he answered defensively, and took a step back from the broken glass.

Sparkles started coming off, and began to dance slowly through the air, in his direction. His eyes widened when he took a few more steps away from it, and it kept following him.

"Don't let it get you!" she said, and he shot her an annoyed glare.

"Then mind to explain me how?"

That question remained unanswered. She had no idea which beverage he had dropped, and hence couldn't tell what they were supposed to do. Russia cursed underneath his breath, again, but it wasn't Russian, nor English. A very dark and intense aura seemed to grow around him as he kept backing away, dark shades seemed to claw around him. He kept whispering in his strange language, and the ominous shield around him became stronger.

A shield, Alice blinked, of course that could protect him. She thought he would need a circle for that though. Magic shields that were strong enough to protect against outside magic were often rather difficult and consumed a lot of energy. As long as the shield could keep him safe from the liquid, it didn't matter to her how he did it. Eventually her circle's effect would fade, and she'd chase the Russian out of her house for disturbing her peace. For a moment things seemed to be close to getting back on the right track. He was summoning the shield, and it kept getting stronger. Until he coughed, it was a loud, deep, painful cough, and a slightly smothered moan. His hand reached for his chest, and he clenched his teeth as he flinched. The shield was gone. It didn't even last a second after his interruption; thin lines of black smoke danced around Russia before it completely vanished.

England's magic was already crawling up his legs. Within a few seconds it had also enclosed his torso, and the rest of his body. Its power could have been afflicted by Russia's shield though, but it could also have left him more damaged. Alice knew what came now, and she also knew that there was nothing else she could do, other than standing there and watching. Just as she expected, there was a flash of light that for a split second lightened up the whole room. Then a specific sound that was different for every spell. This time it was a soft but high vibe, a bit comparable to the voice of a violin.

It was done. Alice sighed, never again would she say her day could not get worse. She hoped Russia was happy with his dose of her magic, and that he had been proven that he shouldn't make fun of her abilities. He would finally leave so she could go to bed and forget today. Judging from what England had seen, she could tell the spell hadn't been too dangerous, and shouldn't cause that much harm. Russia should be fine and well enough to go home and sulk over his stupid act, she reasoned.

His tall figure lay sprawled on the floor. She frowned when he didn't seem to get up, or move at all. "Damn it", she whispered. It has been only a little magic, right? It couldn't have possibly been something serious. Carefully she went to the tall nation, and bend down to her knees at his side. His eyes opened, and the purple colour of his pupils became visible. Then she saw the effect of the spell. She chuckled, and tried to hold back more chuckles, but it only became louder. Laughter welled up in her throat. She started laughing, and it didn't stop as she saw his confused face. It was definitely not nice to laugh in his face like that, but her humour wasn't the kindest one anyway. Seeing him like this definitely made her day.

"Что (shto)?" Russia asked, sounding nothing else but confused.

She slowly stopped laughing, and caught her breath; "Oh, dear, this is, interesting."

Her bottle green eyes followed the form of the two dog-ears on Russia's head. Then she took a deep breath, and fully calmed herself.

"I think it is high time for you to leave", she stated.

He stared at her with the same, confused expression as before, "К-кто (kto)?"

She frowned, "What? Speak English please."

Alice watched his face change in a slightly warily and cautious expression. His dog-ears turned back, the tips of his ears away from her.

"You", the nation said in a low tone, "Who are you?"

There was a silence, a long silence. He stared at her as if he were looking at a stranger; he slowly pushed himself up so he was sitting on the floor and not lying. Suddenly the situation became a lot less funny.

"You've got to be kidding me", her voice was trembling a bit, "No, please, what ironic creature from above the skies hates me so much?"

The ears on his head were still turned away from her. She didn't know much about dogs, sadly enough, but his expression didn't look very happy.

"I'm England, and you're Russia", she said slowly.

Temporary loss of the memory, or a part of it, was a common little issue that would sometimes happen when a spell wasn't preformed well. "I'm Ivan", he said, his ears turned towards her, and he looked less guarded. His eyes were examining her face intensively. He inhaled deeply and blinked; there was a vague spark of turbid recognition.

England pursed her lips a little, "Soon you will regain your memories and things will become clearer, don't worry."

It was a good sign that he remembered his name, his native language as well as the English one, and that he could vaguely recognise her. Only now she realised how close they were; an uncomfortable feeling prickled her. She got up, and gestured him to follow her. Carefully the tall man got up. They went to the living room, and she pointed at the couch.

"Sit down, please. I'll be right back."

Obediently and calmly he listened to her, though it was visible that he was still being cautious. He coughed a few times; it sounded harsh and soar. She went to her kitchen, and started making some tea. England wanted to send him home, right now. The dog-ears would go away within a few days, weeks or months, so he would just have to live with that for a while. The loss of memory was the reason she couldn't send him away. Well, if she wanted, she could, but England knew she'd feel guilty about it.

When she came back with a warm cup of tea in her hands, and she badly needed some tea to calm down, Alice was slightly surprised to see the tall nation had fallen asleep. She sighed and put the cup of tea on the coffee table. He lay curled up on her couch, still wearing all his clothes. Silently she went to get a blanket for him, and lay it over him. If they had a bit of luck, his memory would be fine tomorrow. She stopped and stared at his face for a moment. His skin was pale, and even though he naturally had a pale skin, it didn't look very healthy. He had bags under his eyes. Even in his sleep, she noted, he didn't look peaceful.

It was a little over 10pm when she pulled the warm blanket over her tired body. Luckily this didn't seem to be one of those sleepless, tiresome nights. Finally she allowed herself to fall asleep, and forget whatever had happened that day. Her mind was gladly emptied; she fell into the unconsciousness of her dreams.

* * *

The next morning she woke, as usual, at about 7am. Her body was used to waking itself at an early hour, whether she liked it or not. Easily she got up, not too fast, and shortly looked in the big mirror that decorated her wall. She took of the long sleeved shirt and the baggy pants which she used as a pyjama, and picked a plain white blouse and casual grey trousers out of her closet. She dragged herself to the bathroom. Briefly she wondered whether Russia would already be awake. As she turned on the hot water, and stepped in the shower, the droplets seemed to take away her troubles and worries.

A half hour later she came downstairs. Since the Russian wasn't in her living room, England went to her kitchen. Ivan sat on a chair, a glass of water in his hand. He was staring out of the window; apparently he hadn't heard her coming in. His face looked pale, and tired.

"You okay?" she asked, and he blinked.

He stared at her for a moment, "Da."

She went to the fridge; luckily it seemed everything had remained untouched. She took out some soup and turned to him, "You want to eat something?"

He shook his head, and she frowned but didn't say anything. While heating up her soup, every once in a while she'd shot a glance at Russia. He just sat there, staring out of the window, no emotions on his face.

"You need something?"

Again, he shook his head. She sighed, and began to feel a little frustrated. She knew he was a grown-up man and strong nation that could take care of himself, but there was a hint of concern in her mind. Obviously, he didn't look good, whether it was because he was a bit sick, because of things going on in his land, because of his shield or the her elixir, she couldn't tell. But she did know that he wasn't going to get better from doing nothing.

"I'll warm some soup for you", she stated.

He didn't look at her, as his lips parted, "No, thank you. I'm not hungry."

"I can't eat the whole can on my own", she simply said, and poured the soup in two bowls.

This times his eyes averted from the window, and his violet orbs peered at her with an emotion she couldn't place. There was a silence. When she put his bowl of hot soup in front of him, they still didn't said a word. She started eating her soup. He inhaled deeply, and stared at the soup. England wondered whether he was inhaling the scent, as something caused by the few dog features. Slowly he leaned a bit forward, and took the spoon in his hand.

"It wasn't that bad, right?" she said when they finished.

He had eaten about half of the soup in his bowl before he had put the spoon down. She got up and took their bowls to put them into her sink. Somewhere, she didn't like the atmosphere that hung around him, but she did want to talk to him. He was sick, or sad, or both, and she felt that as a hostess she maybe should try to take a bit care of it. Whether it was her motherly side or something else, England did get concerned about him.

"It was alright", he said blankly.

"Good", she said, feeling nervous, "Others always complain-"

He cut her off, looking straight into her eyes, "About your cooking? They don't like the British cuisine, da?"

She blinked, "Yes, indeed."

For a moment she hoped this meant he had fully regained his memory.

"What's your name?" he asked, and studied her.

His soft purple eyes danced over her face. She had a short, tip-tilted, sharp nose and soft cheeks, yet her high cheekbones were just visible enough. The shape of her face was round; it made her look very young, yet serious and still very feminine at the same time. Her blond, straight, long locks dangled loosely as a golden frame around her face. Most outstanding though were her big, green eyes. They were two emeralds, vivid, bright, deep and like a mirror of her emotions. He could stare in them all day, trying to figure what was going on in that little mind of her behind them. Her eyes seemed to speak for her; it was like a detailed, beautiful puzzle of words and feelings. His own eyes were slightly the opposite; it was incredibly hard to see the deeper intentions or emotions he had through them.

"Alice", she answered, and she ran her fingers through her hair that limply brushed over her shoulders, "Is there anything you'd like to do?"

England thought she almost sounded desperate. There was no way she could just continue working while her guest was sitting there, blankly, looking a little unwell.

He blinked, and thought for a moment, "Can I use a bathroom?"

She almost instantly nodded, "Of course, follow me."

He simply got up and followed her without saying a word. She felt a strange, vague feeling of relief; hopefully he'd feel better after a shower. The tall Russian was walking closely behind her as she went to the bathroom on the second floor, next to the guestroom. "Go ahead."

Finally, a satisfied little smile played around England's lips as she sat down in her armchair. In her hand she held a book and opened it where she had last finished reading. The light of the window right behind her shined on the pages of the book as her eyes eagerly danced from one sentence to another. After having read quite some pages, a cough disturbed her from reading further, and she tilted her head. Russia was done, apparently.

"Oh, was everything okay?" she asked casually, and put her index finger on the sentence she had been reading.

He stood in the opening of the door, wearing the same clothes as before entering the bathroom. He scratched the back of his head, his hair was still a bit wet, and the tiny droplets shimmered slightly.

"Yes, it was fine. Though I don't have any other clothes", he said.

She got up slowly and placed her book away, "Okay, maybe we'll fetch you something clean tomorrow, if you won't feel better by then."

He nodded, and then looked outside, through the window, "Can I go outside?"

There were some ominous clouds in the distance, but they should have just time enough to make a walk.

"We'll do that. Anywhere you'd want to go?"

She calmly went to the hallway to get her jacket and Ivan followed her. Of course, he still wore his coat. England handed him a hat. She didn't need anyone to see his ears, neither did she wish for him to catch a cold from going outside with wet hair.

"A park? A forest?" he said as they got outside.

"Sure", she muttered.

Her eyes swiftly went over his back and buttocks.

"Tail?" she said, partly unconsciously, as she saw the mid-long haired tail that was about as long as his thighs.

"Yes, tail", he answered while looking a bit uncomfortable about it.

Alice made a note to herself; she needed to do more research about dog behaviour. This might even get interesting. While casually walking through the nearby park, England felt how the outdoors had a positive effect on her mind. Russia calmly walked at her side. There was something different about him, she noted. Subtly her eyes wandered over him from the corner of her eye. He wasn't smiling; that was definitely something that seemed to make a big change. Actually, she thought he looked calmer, nicer and more sane, without that strange smile tainting his lips. His body seemed more relaxed; he didn't look like a creep, a monster or anything alike, just a normal man. Except for those dog-ears and that tail, of course.

* * *

Translations:  
Что (shto), is Russian for What.  
Кто (kto), is Russian for Who.

So, what did you think of it? How was the technical side (grammar, spelling, construction of the sentences, ...), the story itself (plot, for so far this chapter has introduced it), the characters (OOC?), and others? Please tell me :)  
**Review~**


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter is further kind of introducing everything, the next chapter will hopefully be more interesting. Though, I hope you'll still like this chapter. I personally think it's a little boring, but the next chapter the introducing-part-thingy will be over and interesting things will start happening.  
Beta'd by SirenAlpha! Thank you!  
Enjoy~

* * *

Chapter II

When England and Russia entered her home again, the atmosphere seemed to have lightened. She took off her jacket and he also took off his own, long coat. Hiding her slight surprise, thinking he wouldn't take off his jacket, she took the beige coat and hung it next to hers. He walked into her living room and sat down on her couch; his muscles seemed to have relaxed and he looked as if the fresh air had been good for him. "Are you feeling better?" she asked, and he nodded shortly with a little smile. It wasn't his typical, strange smile, but polite and kind. She gave him a nod in response, and turned away to go to the kitchen.

"Um, England", he stopped her, testing her name, or rather the name of her nation.

"Yes?" she swiftly turned around and looked at him.

"Can I have something to eat?" he asked, his smile friendly, and she remembered that he had only eaten a bite of soup before. Being a tall man, Russia's body probably needed to be provided with more sustenance. She nodded briefly, and gestured for him to follow her to the kitchen.

England prepared him a sandwich with ham, and a glass of water. It seemed logical to her that he'd like meat on his sandwich. There was silence between them, and the big nation calmly ate. He finished the little meal quickly, and then said, "Спасибо (Spasibo)."

She blinked, as he startled her out of her daydreaming. Russia sipped from his glass of water as she put his plate in the sink. "I'll wash it", he said and she nodded quickly in agreement, not minding that he was willing to do more than just enjoy her goods.

"What did you say?" she asked, and he put his glass down and cocked his head a little to the right. "Sp- spab- spasbo?"

"Спасибо (Spasibo)?" Russia repeated it for her correctly, "It's Russian for "thank you", da?" Alice repeated the word again, and it sounded strange in her mouth.

She had some work to do, but not too much. Whether there was a lot of work or not, England didn't like postponing working on her assignments and other tasks. "I'll be working in the study. Feel free to move about the house, but please don't destroy anything or touch anything that looks valuable. Also, don't leave the house, you were lucky that there weren't too many people in the park, but you should be more careful. You can watch whatever you want on the television, or eat whatever you want out of the kitchen. If you need me, just call me," she told him.

Once she was in her study, she gathered all of her papers and turned her laptop on. There were some economic and political issues she had to check regularly, papers to write, contracts to sign and letters her boss frequently sent her. She dearly hoped there weren't any meetings for the next few weeks. Alice disliked sitting for hours at a boring meeting, and even though she was the representation of Britain, she rarely was given a chance to speak up. Not that she wanted to do so. Somehow, the noisy meetings the nations held were more interesting to attend, even though it sometimes took them twice as long to finish something.

* * *

A little after 1 pm, she put her work aside. She hadn't gotten much done so far; there had been one important paper she had spent most of her time on. There was an unfortunate side to being a perfectionist like England. She always wanted the papers to be well written, presentable, and certainly highly useful. She'd work longer than necessary on papers to get the details just right. A sigh rolled over her pinkish lips as she walked to the living room.

"Russia?" she called out, but there was no response. For a few seconds, she just listened to the quiet; maybe there'd be some sound and she would be able to locate him based on where the sound was coming from. Sadly enough, it was deadly silent at home, almost as if he weren't there. She went to the kitchen, and through the window she could see him sitting on the veranda. He sat there, where the neighbours could see him. Outside.

She rushed to the door he'd left open. "Ivan?" she asked and frowned as she saw him sitting there, on the stairs of the wooden veranda.

His head turned to her so quickly that his neck probably suffered from it. He blinked and his earns flattened a little, almost invisible against his light blonde hair, yet not completely down flat. He looked at her and got up slowly, his tail hung lowly and swayed a little. Alice didn't need to be a professional to know that he knew he was busted. She remembered clearly telling him not to go outside. She also couldn't ignore his big eyes and the effects of his dog-features. Admittedly, he looked cute. But that was just because of the dog features England told herself.

"Da?" he asked innocently.

Oh dear, she couldn't even pretend to be mad at him. He just looked too much like a puppy that got in trouble and wished for her to be kind. Some kind of weak smile melted over her lips, even though she tried to stop it, and she gestured for him to come in. As he came in, his ears perked up.

"Food?" he asked, sounding excited.

England answered positive, and he smiled happily. As he walked to the kitchen, she couldn't help but let her eyes wander off to his cheerfully wagging tail.

* * *

After lunch, England insisted that Russia would stay inside as she finished more work. He didn't make a big deal out of it, which she was glad for. Though, she hoped he'd listen to her this time. Actually, she knew it wasn't really nice of her to let him, without a full memory, with dog-features, and as her guest, spend his time however he wished, locked in her house, while she did her work. But time can't always be spared for niceties.

She went to her study again, and soundlessly closed the door behind herself. It was almost 3pm, they had taken their time with eating, and her little warnings about not going outside and keeping himself busy without causing any damage had been longer this time around. Calmly, she restarted her work from where she had finished before leaving. After completing a few papers, she took a few minutes' pause. It wasn't really a pause because she used it to search the internet for information about dogs and their body language. After she had taken some notes on the basics, she resumed her work.

A few knocks on her door snapped the woman out of her work. The sudden noise had startled her a bit, and she quickly looked over to see a sleepy Russian at her door. "What's wrong?"

"It's late, are you going to sleep?" he asked, rubbing his eye with his hand.

She briefly glanced at her clock and noted with displeasure that it was already past 10pm.

"Yes, of course," she put her work aside and stood up from her chair, "Spaba."

"Спасибо (Spasibo)", he smiled as he corrected her, and looked happy through his sleepiness as she repeated it with a yawn.

"How about I give you a room, now? I don't think the couch is that comfortable", she stated and he followed her to a room near England's own room, "Here's one of the guestrooms."

Alice gave him some nightwear from America that she always had around somewhere. It was a loose shirt and baggy pants for Alfred, so it would certainly fit Ivan.

* * *

The next day started close to normal. Once again, she had to pardon herself from Ivan's company because of work. Russia had looked less interested and pleased to hear it with every word she said. It almost reminded her of when she told America or Canada that she had to go away, again. It didn't take long before they hated her regular departures and would make full use of their time with her while she was available for them. "A mum's job's never done", she had always said to herself.

A few hours later, around noon, Alice was busy with her work. She was halfway through a sentence when a loud thud and the sound of breaking glass nearly gave her a heart attack. It took her merely a second to recover from the worst, and another one to jump up and run out of her study. She swiftly passed through the hallway, going to the room where she thought it had happened. Though she dearly hoped it wasn't the room she thought it was.

"Ivan," she warned, her voice was low and cold.

He was to her left, on his knees. Shards lay everywhere on the floor, and he was picking up the biggest ones. There already were a few cuts on his fingers, but her hard glare didn't waver from his face. He looked guilty, afraid; the Russian certainly knew he had screwed up. His ears were almost flat, nestled into his hair, his tail low, and immobile. This time, he really got himself into serious trouble.

"You know what that was?" she asked, her voice carrying the same tone.

He minutely shook his head. His eyes darted from her face, to the shards, to the wall, not knowing where to look.

"That was a centuries old vase I got from my friend Japan. It was worth more than you can imagine," she told him.

"I'm sorry", he said softly, looking away.

"Does it look like that's going to fix my vase!" she suddenly cried with frustration. That vase had been older than most of the objects in the room. It had been a handmade, extremely expensive gift she had received from Japan. He had given it to her on the anniversary of their fifth year of friendship.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" he said looking up at her with guilt and regret. He clenched his fists for a moment, instinctively and forgetting about the shards he held in them, but had to open them again immediately. Deep red stripes coloured his hands.

"You destroyed something worth millions! Something with emotional value to me!" she yelled at him, and he stood up to face her. Even though he towered over her at a head taller, she didn't back down. "I told you not to touch anything that looks breakable or valuable!"

"I'm sorry!" he yelled back, seeing the anger in her deep, green eyes.

"You idiot! Are you stupid?! Can't you listen to what I tell you?!" Her hand rose in midair, partially as a gesture she made while yelling, partially as a threat.

His ears flattened against his head, and his eyes suddenly shot to her hand. His tail hung low, almost between his legs. There was a spark in his eyes. She stopped moving and yelling, frozen in her position. If she went a step further, England was afraid she knew what would happen. The look in his eyes, it was on the fine line between fear and anger. It would take just a little more, and Russia could snap from guilty and threatened, to defensive and aggressive. She didn't want to deal with that.

Her hand slowly lowered, and she made no sudden movements. She shakily took a deep breath to calm herself, but it didn't work. Now that she thought about it, she doubted she'd know how to handle an aggressive Russia. If it had been something less old, or with less value, maybe she'd be less upset. She looked at the shards of the broken vase. The anger, frustration and volatile energy seemed to change into sadness, affliction and tiredness. On one hand, it was just a vase. On the other hand, it had been very valuable to her, and she had insisted that Russia should keep himself safe and silent.

She felt a tug at her sleeve, and looked away from the mess that had been made. Her forest green eyes met his violet ones. "Sorry", he said softly, "I really didn't want to break it."

She knew it was partly her fault, because she left him to do anything he wanted. She should've seen it coming. And his big, puppy eyes looked at her with regret and hope for forgiveness. Alice parted her lips, but she couldn't say anything. She pulled her arm away from him and walked out of the room. The Brit had no idea what to say or do, honestly. All kinds of feelings burned in her veins; she needed some fresh air.

Outside, the wind, sneering in her face, and tiny drops of rain felt nice. She let her thoughts whirl up and calm down again. She tried not to think too hard on the vase, and told herself it was just an object. Still, there was a burning feeling in her chest; she wanted to hit Russia. Hit him in his cute face to show him what she thought. "No, he isn't cute", she told herself.

But Alice couldn't hit him. She didn't want to make him mad. So far, she was the one that decided and ordered, the boss. England wouldn't want him to get angry and eventually dominant, if he realized that he could overpower her. She looked at her hands, and felt the need to hurt someone slowly slip away between her fingers.

* * *

After a quick fifteen-minute walk she came home again. The cold gusts of wind seemed to have blown away her worries for a moment. She came to the conclusion that being mad at him would not result in anything good. As she closed the front door behind her and took of her jacket, she heard a noise coming from the kitchen. While taking a deep breath, she entered the kitchen.

On the table a hot cup of tea awaited her. Russia sat on a chair, next to it. The place before the cup was empty. His two soft purple eyes looked up at her. His ears slightly folded back, and she stopped walking. There was a short silence between them. Alice stared in his big, puppy-eyes and felt any anger or frustration that was left vanish and make place for an emotion she couldn't really place. Her feminine side really fell for how cute he looked, but she was a grown up adult and had enough discipline to know how to react, or better said, how not to react.

"I made you tea", he muttered and she blinked. Slowly her body started moving again and she sat down next to him. She didn't say anything. She averted her eyes from his face and observed the steaming cup of tea for a few seconds. She took the warm cup into her cold hands, and brought it to her lips. While she drank a little, Ivan's eyes followed her every movement. Honestly, she had no idea what to say to him. The silence seemed fine, yet uncomfortable. Softly she placed the cup back on the table. Her lips parted, and she wondered what words would roll out.

"Sorry." Russia spoke before she could say anything, "I really didn't mean to break it."

His big eyes stared at her. Her eyes were pinned on the tea. Alice knew that the moment she would look into his shiny, pleading eyes, she'd not be able to utter any useful words. She only now noticed how tense she actually was, and tried to relax into a looser position. A sigh escaped from between her lips and, she turned her head to him.

"Thank you, for the tea", she said, looking straight into his violet orbs. Unintentionally, it had still sounded cold, or at least distanced. "I'm sorry as well", she continued and looked at the cup of tea. England wanted to say more, but instead raised the tea to her pinkish lips and sipped.

"I cleaned everything up and put it somewhere safe," he added.

Immediately her eyes shot to his hands, but they were on his lap so she couldn't see them.

"Show me your hands", she ordered. He didn't seem to be bothered by her almost commanding voice at all and slightly stretched out his arms to her. His hands opened for her and they were peppered with crisscrossing red lines. She sighed, barely audible, then got up and gestured for him to follow her.

England searched for something to disinfect his wounds with and told him to sit down and sit still. She easily found what she was looking for, and as soon as the strong smell of the disinfecting liquid spread in the air, Russia turned his head away and held his hands close to him. "It stinks."

"Of course it does, now give me your hands." She reached for his hand. but he pulled them back. He pulled his scarf up so it hid his nose.

"I don't want-"

"I don't care. I didn't ask whether you wanted this or not, now give me your hands," she said, and gave him a warning glare. When he didn't react, she took his hand in hers and pulled it towards her. She held the palm of his big hand up and carefully disinfected it.

"See, it's not that bad. Now give me your other hand."

He wanted to shake his head, but she had already taken hold of his other hand and he let her pull it closer to her. He felt the alcohol burning in his cuts.

"It hurts," he pouted slightly as he pulled his hand back, and looked at England with a frown.

She sighed, and put the disinfecting product away.

"It's alright, just let me bandage your cuts and you'll be free to go."

Luckily he calmly waited for her to search what she needed.

"England?"

"Yes?" she responded as she started wrapping the soft cloth around his hands.

"Can I go outside?" he asked and looked at her with big eyes. Was she mistaken or, was he using his dog-features to his advantage? His ears were slightly folded back and he was definitely looking at her with a pleading, cute face.

"Err, okay", she said and immediately a big smile was plastered on his face. This was the first time she saw him using the puppy-face to his advantage. She wondered if he had observed her and seen her reaction to his behaviour, or whether he did it automatically when asking for something.

"Put this cap on", she pushed a beige cap into his hands. He frowned when he saw it.

"I don't want to wear it", he commented.

"I didn't ask what you wanted", she said and insisted that he put it on, "I can't afford to explain to humans why you have dog ears. Now, keep your tail low, then it shouldn't be visible underneath your coat."

He sighed but obeyed nicely and listened to what he said. "Perfect. Let's go, I need to shop for some groceries anyway," she told him.

* * *

They came back about an hour later and she went into the kitchen. "I'll make us some dinner, okay?"

He followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table. His eyes followed her movements as she swiftly prepared the food. He noted that she was busy with the cooking, because she looked concentrated and at ease. It was nice to see her that way. A good half hour later she was done. She honestly looked happy with what came out, though Russia was not able to tell what it was. Neither could he smell what it was. The texture looked a bit odd and the colours weren't appetizing.

She put down his plate in front of him and sat down, opposing him. He carefully tasted a bit, and swallowed it. He didn't feel like his body was able to take more of it though, and he stared at the food as if it was going to kill him. When he noted that England ate it without complaining, he felt his stomach twist.

"Um, I'm not that hungry anymore", he said and eyed the food with concern. Alice looked up to him and sighed.

"You should eat something though", she frowned.

"Yeah, but, not this."

"All right. I'll make you sandwiched instead. I'll order something tomorrow for dinner", she said. There was a sad undertone in her voice and she stood up.

"You can finish your meal first," he insisted but she said it didn't matter. Eventually they were eating again in silence. He munched on his sandwiches with meat while she continued to eat whatever was on her plate.

Afterwards, England settled herself on the couch with some embroidery she wanted to finish. She turned the TV on and Russia sat down next her. He watched the TV for a few minutes but then turned his head a little. His eyes examined how she embroidered. He liked how small her hands were, and her thin fingers; he'd like to hold them in his big hands. Ivan was actually getting bored, but he was fine with just sitting there, next to England. At least there was some life around him; it felt less lonely and less boring in the mansion when she was around. Whether she was ignoring him or scolding him, he just didn't want to be alone.

"It's time to go to bed", Alice stated when it was past 10pm, and she carefully put her embroidery aside. Russia got up as well and turned off the TV. "Goodnight", she said to him and walked away.

"Goodnight", he answered when she had already disappeared behind the door, and he went to his guestroom. He dressed into the nightwear and lay down. He lay on his back, watching the ceiling. When ten minutes later he still didn't feel any closer to falling asleep, he turned on his side. It didn't seem to be the position that kept him from falling asleep. The room felt large, cold, and empty.

* * *

England was going to be mad at him. Probably. He knew she wasn't going to be happy about it, but when midnight passed and he still hadn't been able to fall asleep, he had gotten up. Now, Russia stood in front of her bedroom door. But he didn't dare knock; what if she was sleeping already? She most likely was. A sigh forced itself from between his lips and he quietly, slowly opened the door. It was almost perfectly silent. Only England's deep, slow and regular breathing filled the room. Ivan tiptoed over to her bed and stared at her sleeping figure. She was a pretty girl; it made him wonder why she didn't have any boyfriend or someone else that lived with her. It seemed pretty lonely here, without anybody else around.

England's bed was king size, it made her small body look even more petite. Luckily she was sleeping on her side, with her back turned to him, leaving ample space for at least a person more beside her. However, Russia was a tall man, and there was just enough room for him. Very carefully he lifted the sheet and sat down on the mattress. He pulled his legs up onto the bed, and soundlessly slipped them underneath the sheet. Finally, he leaned back and lay down on the bed.

Alice shifted, and Ivan froze. She turned to lie on her belly and for a moment clutched her pillow in her hands. Her lips parted a little and she mumbled something smothered into her pillow. The Brit seemed to be a light sleeper. He allowed himself to breathe again and relaxed. His eyes closed and his breathing became deeper. This room felt warmer, and even though it was bigger than the one he had been given, it didn't feel as empty. Her scent danced through the air and he inhaled deeply. She smelled nice.

"Eek?!" A loud shriek awoke Russia from his sleep. A thud followed. His ears were erected and his muscles immediately tensed. He stared at the empty place in the bed next to him, where the sound had come from. He also wondered for a moment why he wasn't in his own bed.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?!" Oh, right, he remembered why he was here.

"I was sleeping?" he said and she got up from the ground. Her face turned red, though he couldn't tell whether it was more from anger or embarrassment.

"Why in my bed?" she asked. Now, Russia for the first time actually got to see her sleepwear. She was wearing a light blue nightgown that reached halfway down her thighs, and it was sleeveless. Her hair loosely brushed over her shoulders and arms.

"Because my bed was cold", he answered softly. England's words faltered in her throat and she stared at him for a moment. She felt her cheeks turning red and hot. Eventually she huffed, and ran her fingers through her hair. Russia didn't do or say much more. He watched her leave the room, heading towards the bathroom. Until she was completely out of view, he had followed her elegant movements. He quickly shook any thoughts about her away and slowly got up.

* * *

Translations:  
Спасибо (Spasibo) is Russia for Thank you.

That's it for this chapter. I'm sorry for making it so long while there doesn't happen much, but I promise that the next chapter will be more interesting. I hope it was kind of okay. Tell me what you think about it so far, da?  
**Review~ !**


	3. Chapter 3

Hey~ Thanks for all your reviews and support! Things are starting to happen, yay! I hope you guys will enjoy reading this, even though this chapter is a little shorter than the previous. Sorry for updating so slowly. I'll try opdating faster, but I can't promise anything. Good luck to all the participaters of NaNoWriMo! I myself am probably not participating though. Thank you SirenAlpha for beta'ing this story!  
Enjoy~

* * *

Chapter III

The next few days England and Russia went to bed separately, and Russia would at night sneak into her bed. He'd wake England every morning between 6am and 7am for a morning walk, which was quite early, but she was used to getting up early. He'd softly nudge her or gently shake her shoulder to wake her.

After the third night of waking up next to the large source of warmth, Alice had stopped caring about the awkwardness. Somehow, she had stopped minding having a source of heat next to her. Or she'd wake up from a restless sleep or nightmare, and just listen to his slow, regular breath.

This morning was different. She didn't wake to the Russian words he'd whisper to wake her up. There was no big hand that kindly shook her out of her dreams. Instead, the body next to her suddenly stiffened and then sat up immediately, almost bewildered. Since England was a light sleeper, she was immediately startled awake by his sudden action.

She turned to him and saw his pale face. His head immediately turned towards her. They stared at each other for a brief moment, and then Russia blushed furiously. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something. Though, the silence remained untouched, seeing him blushing so madly, Alice felt her cheeks heating up as well.

"S-sorry," he stuttered, and got out of the bed swiftly.

Strongly avoiding eye contact, he walked out of the room. She could see though, that he was blushing madly of embarrassment.

Never before had she actually seen him embarrassed like that. He looked so different when he didn't have that forced curve in his lips that people would call a smile. Every emotion aside from fake happiness or anger would look better on him.

Even though she was quite surprised by his behaviour, it was too early for her to worry about him. Alice swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got up. She went to the bathroom to prepare herself. They had bought food for breakfast yesterday, so that would be served soon as well.

When she came downstairs, all dressed and ready for the day, she heard Russia in the kitchen. The smell of omelette with vegetables and bacon engulfed her as she entered the room. At first, it didn't even look like Russia had noticed she had entered the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said, in a formal way.

He seemed a bit startled by her sudden appearance, but gave her a nod. She sat down, and watched him serve the food on the plates. Even though she had said he didn't have to, Russia had been cooking a bit for the past few days.

They started eating in silence, until Russia put his fork down and looked up at her. He had barely touched his breakfast. His face was blank; Alice couldn't distinguish any emotion behind it. She knew that he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words. Alice pretended she didn't notice it and calmly kept on eating.

"England," he finally began. He stared at her with a rather displeased look on his face, "Why do I have dog-ears? And a tail?"

"Because you're clumsy and can't stand still for five minutes," she thought then realised she had said it out loud. His eyebrows knitted together and he had a darker look on his face.

"Explain," he commanded with one word, seemingly ignoring her rudeness. Alice's eyebrow rose.

"I have to explain why you're clumsy?" she huffed, but his expression didn't change.

"Explain why this happened and when it will be gone," his voice wasn't warm, kind or even casual, like it had been the past few days.

"You spilled an elixir that gave you some dog features. You have dog-ears, a tail, and your behaviour will slightly be dog-like. You had temporary lost your mind due to an unintentional side effect of the spell, though I guess that's fine now. The effects of the spell can vanish after a few days, weeks or months," she explained and he listened politely without interrupting her.

"What do you mean by dog-like behaviour?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know. It can be anything from liking to go on walks to chasing your own tail. I'm not a scientist that experiments with every elixir I have, so you'll have to find out for yourself how much influence it has on you."

He sighed and put his elbows on the table, leaning his head on his hands. There was a little silence. England merely shrugged it off and continued eating again. The food was well-prepared and tasty.

"Can you do something about it?" he asked, with a calmer tone in his voice. His fingers briefly ran through his short hair, but he quickly pulled his hand away when he felt his dog-ears.

"Maybe, though I don't think so. And even if there's some kind of possibility, there're still many risks," she answered, not even considering it as something worth trying.

She finished eating and put her plate in the sink. She left the kitchen and Russia got up and followed her. Alice had just entered the living room when she turned to him.

"Go get your stuff," she said, "You're going back to your place."

"I don't think so," he said, a little smile on his face as if everything was okay. It didn't look friendly. England was slightly taken aback by his sudden mood change.

"Um, yes you are. You can perfectly continue doing whatever you usually do, even with these effects. They'll eventually vanish anyway," she said and moved to walk away. Russia had other plans though, and his hand grabbed her shoulder. He quickly and roughly turned her to face him, with a little too much force. Alice tried to shrug his hand off her shoulder, but he only tightened his grip.

"You know you got yourself into this, da? If I go back to my boss with papers that say you won't use any magic on me, and with a body that is under your magic influence, I doubt he'll be happy," he smiled.

"Pft, it's not like I did something dangerous," she huffed and tried to ignore the pressure he was exerting on her shoulder.

"Did the contract say you weren't allowed to use dangerous spells? Nyet. It said any magic, positive, negative, neutral, doesn't matter; magic is magic. You know, we Russians can do pretty interesting things as well, with or without magic. You wouldn't want my boss to feel offended or attacked, would you?" he threatened. He had a challenging glint in his eyes and his smile was making her nervous.

England roughly pulled herself away from his harsh grip and took a step back. Russia only stepped forward and she took another step back. "Go away."

"I'd love to," he said. England felt the wall behind her back, and Russia's tall body was enclosing her. "But I won't go away."

She wanted to go right or left, to escape from between Russia and the wall. She needed some space to breath. Though when she moved, Ivan's hand grabbed her left upper arm and pulled her back. He held her in an iron grip. She felt how it almost crushed her arm, but she didn't flinch.

"Let me go", she warned him with a cool voice. She glared at him, firmly ignoring the pain in her arm.

"You are going to get rid of these," he vaguely gestured at his dog-ears, "and you better find something quickly."

"Fine!" England suddenly barked in his face. "Let me go! Go away, to your room or wherever! I don't need to see you around for the next few hours!"

She snarled at him, giving a poisonous edge to the words. Ivan was slightly taken aback by the outburst and let go of her. He stepped back, and without saying another word he turned around and left the room. Silently he went upstairs and entered his room. The tall nation sat on his bed; a deep sigh rolled over his lips.

A few seconds later, Russia got up from the bed and took his laptop from the bag he had luckily taken with him. Carefully he opened his laptop and started working.

* * *

After Russia had left England alone in the living room, she had stood there and watched the door warily for a few seconds. Then she swiftly went to the bathroom and took off her blouse. Her stormy, green eyes gazed into the mirror. The surface of her skin was coloured red and purple on her left upper arm, and a lighter bruise was also visible on her shoulder. It hurt slightly when she moved her shoulder, or touched the part of her upper arm that had been injured.

"Stupid Russian," she hissed, "Who does he think he is?! Bloody wanker."

She continued murmuring while wetting a towel with cold water and pressing it against her skin to prevent the bruises from swelling up too much. After she put the towel away, she took out a bandage and used it to cover the bruises on her upper arm.

Alice needed to get her thoughts straight. Russia would be staying over for a while, that's one. After that, she'd need to search for some way to make the dog-features disappear. When she sat down on the edge of the bathtub, her mind wandered off to Russia himself. She couldn't help but prefer the Russia without his full memory. He only regained his memory a few hours ago and already had threatened her and given her two bruises.

England went back to the sink and splashed some cold water in her face. She decided to ignore the pain in her arm and shoulder and dressed up again.

When she entered the living room, it was almost too silent. Ivan had gone to his room. She was glad he had listened, and she went to the kitchen to make herself some tea. She was one hundred percent sure she'd throw something at him if she saw him now. Even if it was her expensive china she'd have to throw. She needed some tea really badly.

Alice sat down in her couch with a cup of tea. Now that she had a bit time to think about it, she realised that Russia had listened to her; he had gone to his room, away from her. She wondered whether that still meant that, even though he was the one that made the decision he'd stay, he'd still listen to her orders. She knew she was bossy, but hoped that if he was staying here, he wouldn't become rebellious. Authority was something she wanted to have, at least in her own house.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon, and Ivan still hadn't returned. Alice had meanwhile ordered pizza for lunch and had been waiting for the delivery. She went upstairs and knocked a few times on his door.

"Russia," she called, and waited in front of the door for a response.

"Da?" he asked from the other side of the door. She couldn't make out any specific emotion from his answer.

"Be downstairs in a minute, I ordered pizza."

Usually, she wouldn't eat fast food like that, but in this case it was better than nothing. She heard him get up from a chair, and Alice turned around and made her way downstairs again.

They ate in silence after the pizza arrived. Alice glanced at him every once in a while, but she kept seeing the same image. Ivan ate neatly, calmly, and almost perfectly according to the etiquette, as far as etiquette goes for eating pizza.

She was slightly frustrated. England wanted to hear an apology. He had been rude; he had hurt a lady. That lady also happened to be his host, and he had forced her into allowing him to stay. Every time she shot a glance at him, a flicker of anger prickled her chest.

"Something wrong?" Russia asked, without looking up from his plate. She stopped eating, and stared at him for a moment. Frustration and annoyance were gathering within her chest.

"Something wrong?!" she spat, almost slamming her fist on the table in anger, "Not at all!"

Russia looked up to her. His face was blank and calm. But Alice noticed his ears were turned away and slightly lowered. They were a backdoor route to his emotions behind the blank face or the smile.

"Why are you so mad?" he asked, frowning a little. Alice almost started laughing, but she just looked at him with slight disbelieve.

"You seriously don't think anything's wrong?" She asked with scepticism, and frowned.

He blinked and then shook his head. Her eyes dropped from his face to the pizza that was getting cold. She couldn't go on yelling at him, even though it was tempting. Russia continued eating again, seemingly very hungry. She decided that she was not hungry anymore and just stared at the table.

A moment later Russia stood up and took his plate. He shot a glance, and she gestured he could take her plate as well.

She decided to end this day with finishing up some work and going to bed early. It took her a few hours to work herself through a bunch of papers, but she finished everything for at least the rest of the week.

* * *

England woke up on the left side of her bed. She had curled into a ball, and lay almost as if she expected someone to lie next to her. Her bed seemed to be colder, emptier. But she didn't know whether she'd want the Russian back to fill up the space or not.

Sleepily, she got up and opened her closet. She took of her shirt and pants. Her hand reached for a bra and panties, and she put them on. As she reached for her blouse, a few knocks startled her.

"England?" Russia asked, and the door opened. He spotted her a little too soon. She jerked the blouse out of her closet, and held it over her chest. Some other blouses and tops fell out of the closet as well. Ivan's eyes widened for a moment and he quickly stepped back and shut the door again. She felt her heart race in her chest.

Moments later, she came downstairs. Her cheeks were still coloured by a light shade of red. She entered the kitchen and felt her heartbeat quicken again. Russia stood at the window, staring outside at the pouring rain. For once, breakfast wasn't made yet.

"England," he said and he turned away from the window. She froze and looked at him. He took a few steps towards her. She became a little warily and cautious as he came closer. The calm air around him and the almost saddened look on his face seemed to shush the hint of adrenaline, though.

His hand softly touched her upper arm, "Does it hurt?"

She pulled her arm back; mostly because it felt threatening to her than that it hurt. "It's fine."

The reason that kept her from fleeing or telling him to take distance was the look in his eyes. His soft purplish eyes were looking at her with an emotion she couldn't directly place. It was a sad kind of emotion.

"Show me-" Russia said, but she cut him off.

"No," she said, surprisingly cold, "I said it's fine."

Ivan grabbed her wrist without breaking eye contact. He didn't hold it as tightly as she had expected him to do. She even thought felt him loosen and tighten his grip very slightly; as if he wanted to make sure it didn't hurt.

"Please," he looked in her eyes, "Let me see."

For a moment she just stared at him, hoping he would finally shrug and go away. Then she sighed and looked away. Apparently that was enough of a green light for Russia and he gently pulled her after him as he made his way to the bathroom.

"Can you take your shirt off?" Ivan asked while they entered the bathroom.

"No," she responded firmly. She wouldn't even think of taking off anything in the same room with Russia.

Russia parted his lips but seemed to change his mind and sealed them. After a few seconds he inhaled again. "I mean, can I see the bruise?"

England sighed and tried to roll up her sleeve as high as possible. The main part of the bruise on her upper arm was visible. She decided he'd have to make do it with that. He gently took her arm in his hands, and looked at the bruise. Suddenly, she recognized the emotion in his eyes. Though, England wasn't sure whether she was right. It seemed like some kind of regret, failure.

"Is that because of me?" he asked, knowing the answer.

She looked at the wall, not feeling the need to answer. Her mouth was dry. The silence was unnerving her though, and she looked down at the floor. "Yes."

He sighed and his fingers very softly stroked the skin covering the bruise. Alice looked up at him and saw his honestly sad face. "Does it hurt?"

"A little,"

England didn't understand. Yesterday he nearly crushed her bone and today he looked at it as if he'd expected her arm and shoulder to be fine.

"Is there some ointment or something to put on it?" Ivan tore his eyes away from the injuries and look at her.

She opened a cabinet with her free arm and pointed at a little tube. He took it out and put some of the ointment on her upper arm. Carefully, his warm hand started smearing it on her skin, the tips of his fingers occasionally disappearing underneath the edges of her sleeve.

Maybe he really didn't know he had hurt her. She blinked. Her eyes travelled over him in a few seconds. He was a tall man, strong, muscular, and well aware of his power. Or maybe not completely?

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's alright," she mumbled. Maybe she understood.

He took some of the bandage that was also in the cabinet and wrapped it around her upper arm. She didn't need him to do these things. She didn't expect him to do them either, but England admitted it was nicer like this. It felt as if the frustration he caused before had been calmed.

* * *

I hoped you guys enjoyed reading it! The deadline for the next chapter will be probably within two weeks, though perhaps earlier (..and maybe later). Tell me what you think about this chapter, da? ^^  
Review~


	4. Chapter 4

I'll start off with this: I'm terribly sorry for updating so late. Here are my excuses: I participated in NaNoWriMo, which means I wrote about 1666 words a day, to make a total off 50k in 30 days. And as a little extra: I won. I wrote a bloody novel in thirty days. Feel my joy, and relief. Another thing is, that I'm lazy. I'm not denying it, not at all. I'm very lazy and I could've updated faster. I'm sorry. The last excuse I have is that I'm sick. I have a cold. I'm pretty much ignoring it though, and not going to bed earlier or neglecting my writing/studying.  
So, now that we've done that, we can move on again, da? I hope you guys'll like this, and thanks for all the awesome reviews, keep giving them! ;)  
Another "Thank you!" to SirenAlpha, my betareader.  
Enjoy~

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Chapter IV

Russia hadn't want to wake England up early. He had waited to make breakfast. When Russia had gone to her room an hour ago to wake her, he had somehow ended up not doing it. Ivan had looked at her peaceful face for minutes, and then decided she deserved some rest, even though he had been hungry. He figured that by now she had slept enough. He always got up early, whether he had to work or not. Thanks to the spell, he had also gotten into the habit of going out in the morning for a walk. When he had gone out this morning, locking the door behind him so that England would be safe, he had felt strange. The village that he had seen a few times already had seemed bigger, emptier. He preferred England walking by his side, even if they didn't say a word.

Russia gently shook England's shoulders, "England?"

Her eyelids slowly parted, and her forest green eyes became visible. She blinked, and looked up at him.

"It's 11am. I thought it was time for you to get up, da?" he said.

"11am? You're kidding me, right?" she said, and pushed the sheets away.

Quickly she got up, and took some clothes out of her closet. When she moved to leave the room and head into the bathroom, Russia grabbed her hand gently. She turned around with a questioning look on her face.

Ivan had a little smile on his face, but he looked concerned, "How's your arm?"

"Eh, it's fine, thank you," she mumbled a bit surprised.

His hand was warm. England felt her heartbeat quicken; she blushed a little. Ivan looked relieved, and he let go of her. She quickly went to the bathroom.

Later, she went downstairs and entered the kitchen. The radio was playing a happy tune, and the smell of pancakes filled the air. She sat down at the table; he greeted her politely, and handed her a cup of tea. She thanked him, and took a sip. It was strange, she realised, that he had only been here a few days, and already knew how she liked her tea. He knew where he could find the items he needed for cooking, and where he could buy food. She admitted that he was a keen observer.

"What do you like with your pancakes?" he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Alice looked at the little tower of pancakes, and wondered who'd eat all those pancakes. She looked back at Russia, and answered, "Butter, and maple syrup, though I don't think I have that."

"I bought it while I was out," he answered shortly, and opened the cupboard.

They ate in silence, but it was a peaceful silence. Now she could see how much Russia actually could eat, or how little she ate compared to him. They finished eating and Russia put the plates into the sink. England went to the living room; it was almost noon. She sat down on the couch, and turned the TV on. Since it was weekend, the both of them could take a break from their work. Russia entered the room, and he sat down next to her on the couch.

She looked at him for a moment, but he didn't seem to notice. The television was airing some program about sports, ice hockey. Russia seemed calm; he had a rather tranquil expression on his face. England was surprised that he could look so normal, even with all his memories. He was wearing a simple, plain white shirt and casual trousers. His body seemed relaxed as he was sitting back on the couch while watching the television. He looked mildly interested in what the channel was broadcasting. She felt small, sitting next to the large man. England looked at his broad chest and shoulders. He wasn't on the extremes, but he was toneddespite a healthy layer of fat. She realised she had never really seen him without his coat on before.

"Are you enjoying the view?" he asked.

He wasn't looking directly at her, but he had a grin on his face. England felt her cheeks turn three shades of red, and she quickly averted her eyes. He only started to laugh a bit, and finally looked at her.

"I'm just kidding," he said, and friendly poked her arm.

His smile was wide, and there was something different about it. England looked at him out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were shining warmly, and his smile didn't seem out of place. She blushed even more when she looked at him. She tried to calm herself, but it didn't seem to work very well.

"Hey, Russia," she mumbled, but stubbornly looked at the television to avoid eye contact.

"Da?"

"Why didn't you want to go home?" she asked, in a serious tone.

He blinked, and looked at his hands, "I told you that you have violated the contract, and I don't need anyone to make a fuss about it."

England turned her head to face him. Their eyes met. Even though she was blushing, she looked serious, "Don't lie to me."

She hated lies, and throughout the years she had become too good at distinguishing them from the truth. That didn't mean she had never lied. Instead, it had made her a better liar.

"Why don't you want to go back to your boss?"

Russia had a stern expression on his face as he looked at her. He seemed to be considering telling her the truth, but he was also stubborn. Besides, he had lied so many times before. He broke eye contact, and looked at the television, as if he was ignoring her.

"None of your business," he said.

England almost huffed, but she stayed calm, "It does matter to me, and it is my business. You are staying at my place. I would like to know why you refuse to go back."

There was a little pause. Russia didn't remove his eyes from the television; he sighed. His lips parted slowly, "Isn't it obvious?"

England frowned, and he finally looked at her. He raised his hand touched his dog-ears. He clenched his jaw, and he looked down again, "What do you think my boss will do when he sees me like this?"

England didn't answer. She shrugged, not really knowing what to say.

"I look ridiculous! I'm a full-grown man, the biggest nation on earth, and I have two dog-ears on my head, and a tail that wags whether I want it to or not!"

England saw the anger on his face, "They'll understand it was an accident."

"Yeah, they will, certainly. They'll laugh in my face, that's what will happen."

"I don't think they would," she frowned, and he huffed.

"It's not like you know anything about it anyway," he said through gritted teeth.

"Then tell me about it, if I'm that clueless."

He sighed frustrated, "Don't you understand? You are a woman, you can have these ears and people will think you look cute. I'm a man; I don't look cute. Men like me shouldn't. Who do you think takes a man with dog ears seriously? Who do you think will show any respect for me?"

"I do," England said without thinking.

He sighed, seemingly calming down a little, "I can't look them in the eyes like this."

Alice realised that he did make a point. She sighed, and briefly looked at her nails. He stood up. Her eyes followed him, and wandered over his body for a moment. He was really long legged and broad shouldered. She liked that, but that was also to her disadvantage.

"Want to join me for a walk?" he asked, and she nodded.

Since England had insisted that Russia wear something to cover his ears, he had gone to his room. He was happy that he had brought his ushanka with him. Even though it wasn't that cold out, the sun wasn't shining either, so walking around with the warm, Russian cap on wouldn't look too weird.

It was raining, but that was only usual for England's weather. The rain was only a soft drizzle, but Russia had taken an umbrella with him anyway. They walked to a nearby park. Like a gentleman he had offered her his arm. She had, while blushing softly, held his arm as they were walking through the park. They strolled past a playground to their left. Even though the weather wasn't very nice, a few children were merrily playing. England noticed that Russia started walking slower. He was looking at the children with an expression that seemed almost kind.

"Want to sit down on the bench?" she asked.

There was a little bench right beside the playground, underneath a big tree that kept it dry. Russia nodded, and they sat down. A few minutes passed, and England actually found it nice to watch those children play. They were carefree, playful and happy; it made her troubles fade for a moment.

A little boy started crying. He had golden blond hair and bright green eyes. He seemed to ask some children something, and the kids shook their heads in response. Then the boy walked towards England and Russia. Big, round tears were rolling over his chubby cheeks. Before the boy could say something, Russia got up and got down on his knees in front of the child.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

His big hand carefully wiped some tears away. Alice bent down to the little boy as well.

"I can't find my mommy," the boy stuttered.

England rubbed her hand over his arm, and shushed him a bit, "We'll find your mommy. Where did you see her last time?"

The boy pointed to an empty bench under another tree, a little further away.

"What does she look like?" Russia asked, and he wiped another tear away.

"Mommy has black, short hair, and she has Benny," the boy started crying harder.

England looked up for a moment to Russia. Looking at the crying child seemingly made him very upset. She sighed, and took a tissue out of her pocket to wipe the tears away.

"Who's Benny?" she asked, while drying his tears.

"Benny's my baby brother", the boy said, and hiccupped.

Russia then carefully scooped the boy up in his arms, "Lets look for mommy, da?"

The little boy was surprised for a moment, and then nodded. His bright green eyes darted about his surroundings as if he was seeing them for the first time. Obviously, the kid wasn't used to being carried around, and seeing everything from such a high point of view. They walked towards the bench the kid had pointed at. The boy had no clue what direction his mother went; one moment she was there, and the next she'd disappeared.

England said she would walk a bit ahead. The boy sat on Russia's shoulders, and while looking for his mother, he admired the view.

"Does mommy more often disappear?" Russia asked, while holding one of the boy's hands for safety.

"Yes, mommy's often gone. But usually she comes back a bit later, or the other day."

Ivan sighed, but didn't say anything. It hurt him how reckless parents were, leaving their kids alone like that. He hated adults for several reasons, but kids were different. They didn't lie, they didn't hide, and their troubles were so easy to take care off. He couldn't see England anymore; she had wandered off somewhere. Luckily, he had visited this part of the park before, and he knew his way around.

A few minutes later, he spotted England coming towards them. She held something in her arms as she walked towards them. She looked very pissed off.

"Benny!" shouted the boy, and Russia quickly put him down.

The little boy ran towards England as fast as his little feet could carry him. She assured him that everything was fine with Benny, that mommy would come back soon, and that they should return to the playground. The boy then softly pulled Russia's pants, and stretched his arms to be picked up. They returned to the playground, and Russia and England sat down on a bench.

"Thank you miss and mister!" said the boy happily.

He looked at his sleeping baby brother with a relieved, joyful smile.

"No problem, da?" Russia said, "You can go play a little. We'll watch after you and Benny until mommy's back."

The boy smiled brightly, thanked them again, and ran off to play. It had stopped raining, and the clouds made room for sunshine.

Russia turned to England, "Where's his mother?"

"Smoking some weed with some wankers," she growled, "She said I could take the kid. I hope she's smart enough to come back."

"It's good that he didn't see his mother like that," Russia mused, with a sad tone.

England nodded and softly rocked the sleeping baby in her hands. They watched how the little guy, whose name they didn't even know, was playing with other kids.

"I want to keep him," Russia stated suddenly, looking at the boy with pity.

"What?" England blinked, "You can't be serious."

"Of course I can't just steal them. But they don't deserve a 'mommy' like that, do they?"

England sighed, but remained serious. She didn't know whether he honestly would like to take the kids with him, or whether he was just expressing his pity. "You'd want to raise them? Watch them grow up, and then just leave you?"

"Da." For a moment they both were silent. England frowned. He finally looked at her, "I like kids, for various reasons. No kid deserves pain or suffering. I'd not think I would mind raising a child. Besides, almost everything I have ever had has left me at some point. It's just how things go, da?"

She looked at him; the conversation had become more personal. She needed to be careful with what she said, though she was interested. She wasn't the most talkative, but a good conversation never bothered her. What he said, reminded her of something she had once read somewhere. "Beginnings are usually scary and endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts."

"Da. You have raised kids, nations, da? How is it to have kids around?" Russia asked, curiously, without intending to intimidate her.

She thought back, and both happy and sad emotions welled up along with the memories. Her lips parted, "There're indeed a couple of nations I have known as kids. Not all of them have lived with me. America and Canada did, for a while. But Australia for example didn't; I went to visit him from time to time."

She paused for a moment, and thought about the old memories of their youth, centuries ago. "It was nice, sometimes, to have them around. I was very busy though, and sometimes they were alone for weeks. I liked playing with them when I was at home. They were both always curious and joyful. It's good that they always had each other, and the few times Françis took take of them."

Russia was attentively listening, and nodded slowly, "If you left for so long, what did they do when you came home?"

A smile curved England's lips, "They always had made something for me: drawings, hand-made jewelry, all kinds of little things. They'd stalk me constantly through the house. We'd cook together, and play games. The first two days after coming home, I could barely do anything useful. They would always stand at my side, with big, sad eyes, when I started to do something else."

"That sounds nice," Ivan said, and he stared intently at nothing. "Do you think it was worth raising them, knowing you'd lose them afterwards?"

She was silent. When she thought back about all the independences, her heart ached. She still had nightmares about the battles sometimes, about the pain. It had been great to be powerful, and to have people around her like them. Though, eventually, they had hurt her. They had fought against her. All those years she had spent making great nations of them, were returned with agony and bloodshed. England felt overwhelmed by a mixture of feelings every time she thought of those times. Never ever again would she want to be put into that situation. Never would she allow someone to hurt her so much again. That mistake would not be repeated.

"I'm sorry if that was personal," Ivan's voice chased her thoughts away.

She shook her head slowly, "I don't know. I don't know whether it was worth it."

He nodded. The little boy was helping a girl with her sandcastle. Russia's eyes followed him. Another boy with auburn hair, probably a few years older, came to the sandcastle. The latter started jumping on their castle, and laughed at the girl. The little guy stood defensively in front of the girl.

England was looking at the baby in her hands. When she looked up to Russia, she noted how tense he was. His clenched his jaw. She turned to what he was looking at. The boy with auburn hair hit the little guy and yelled at him. England's attention snapped back to Russia when she suddenly heard him growl. He stood up, and she watched him go to the three children.

The boy that had been yelling suddenly shut up. Russia said something, and the boy stuttered something in response. England hoped the parents of that boy weren't going to step in, and make a fuss about it. The boy seemed to want to walk away, but Russia said something that made him stop, and turn around. He seemed to apologize. The little blonde guy said something, with a small smile. England could tell Ivan was slightly surprised. Then, he left the kids. The three of them started to rebuild the castle.

Russia sat down next to Alice, and sighed, "That's a brave little boy."

"What did he say?"

"He asked the other boy if he wanted to help them with rebuilding the castle. It seemed he had no one to play with."

England saw how they were making the castle bigger. She smiled. Maybe Russia was right somewhere, maybe kids were lovable for various reasons that weren't lovable in adults. A woman suddenly tapped her shoulder. A smell Alice recognized overwhelmed her.

"Hey sweetie, can I have my baby back?" a stoned wreck of a woman asked. England unconsciously held the baby tighter. The woman frowned, and threw her cigarette somewhere behind her on the ground, "Well?"

"Of course," England said, and carefully handed the baby. The woman sluggishly held the baby. She waved towards the playground.

The boy immediately noticed her, "Mommy!"

He happily ran towards her and hugged her legs because he was too small to reach higher. She didn't say a word, but walked away. "Bye, nice miss and mister!" the boy yelled happily, and he followed his mother.

"Bye," Russia said with a fake smile, and he waved to the boy.

England shivered. It was terrible to watch such a nice boy walk away with such a wreck, but she knew that there were many people like that. There were so many kids like this, and too many reckless young adults. She also knew that she couldn't change much about it. It was impossible to save all those kids, no matter how much they deserved it.

"There he goes," she sighed, "And we don't even know his name. I hope he'll be fine."

Russia had a little, almost fearful smile, and a melancholic glint in his eyes, "I hope so too."

Alice watched them disappear behind the trees. He looked up at the sky, "His name was Arthur."

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"Beginnings are usually scary and endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts." Quote of Sandra Bullock.

So, I hope you enjoyed it a little. What did you guys think of the chapter? Were Russia and England in character? How were their conversations? What did you think of the ending? I'd like to know your opinion. I'm not saying anything about the next chapter, really. You see, dudes/dudettes, I'm having exams. Kinda every nation on earth has another school system, and where I live, everyone's having exams. Don't worry, there are only 13 exams, and all 13 are different subjects.. feel my joy? No. I'll see what I can come up with and how much I can write.  
Review~


	5. Chapter 5

I'm so sorry for posting this so late! This chapter needed to be edited a few times, and I kept on delaying it ._.  
Anyway, I'm sick now, so I have plently of time for this stuff. I noticed chapter 4 was also posted when I was sick.. I should be sick more often, da?  
Thank you to betareaders SirenAlpha and DriveByReader!  
Enjoy the long awaited chapter~ ^^

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Chapter V

The next day had started peacefully. Russia had made borscht and sandwiches for breakfast. England sat at the little table where they always ate breakfast. She watched him from the corner of her eye. Carefully, he put their meal down on the table and sat down as well.

"Thanks," she murmured.

He nodded, "приятного аппетита (priyatnogo appetita)."

"What does that mean?" she asked casually.

"It means something like: Enjoy your meal,"

She nodded slowly and repeated the word, trying it out. It sounded a little different and awkward, but he didn't comment on it. The smell of the soup filled her nose as she inhaled. It smelled good. It didn't seem to have taken him long to figure out that England was used to having a big breakfast, even though she didn't eat that much in general. She had a bowl of soup and a little sandwich, although Russia had a bowl of soup and two sandwiches. He was a big man after all.

"Something wrong?" Russia asked.

England had caught herself staring at him lately, more often than she wanted to be. Quickly, she shot a brief glance out the window to avert her eyes. It had been freezing the night before apparently; with frost visible on the grass. She looked back at Russia.

"No, um, I was wondering, it's getting pretty cold lately, isn't it?"

He blinked, and nodded slowly, "Da. It's almost winter."

"Do you like the cold?" she asked, looking through the window.

For a moment he seemed to be lost in thoughts; "Well, I'm used to it."

She looked up to him. "But do you like it?"

"Actually," he said calmly, "I like spring and summer the most."

England blinked, surprised, and looked away again. She nibbled on her sandwich. Today, there wasn't much work to do. England had thought today she might try some magic. Maybe he had been right, and she would be able to lift the spell. They finished eating, and she cleaned up after their meal. Russia also got up. He seemed to be in a fairly good mood today.

"Are there any things planned for today?" he asked.

England started doing the dishes, "Well, there's some work I want to finish, but it's not much. I could see whether I would be able to do something about your little problem."

Russia nodded. He took a towel, and dried the things she had washed. She didn't really know why he was being so helpful. A little doubt prickled her mind; was she maybe being a bad hostess? Carefully she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. He was standing next to her, and England almost felt herself shrinking. She had to look up, since she was a little below the average height, and slim. Ivan, on the other hand, was almost everything she was not. Despite the fact that he slightly towered over her, she didn't feel too intimidated by his height now. Personally, she preferred tall men to short ones. He might also be less threatening because of his calm and polite behaviour the last few days. Perhaps also because the two ears on his head, which made him look somewhat like a puppy, were rather cute than anything else. It might be that little dog side of him that made him a little more helpful. Or maybe he helped her because he felt guilty for the rudeness from earlier? Maybe it was because Russia liked to work in any kind of way, even if it were chores like this. She needed to find something to keep him busy.

She absentmindedly handed him the last plate. Their hands touched for a mere second, but it was enough to snap her out of her thoughts. She looked at Russia for a moment, watching how he dried the plate, and carefully put it in the cupboard. Before he could turn around and comment on her staring, she parted her lips. "Time for a little walk, hm?"

It was just the regular short walk through a little nearby park. She played with the thought of thinking up something that would keep him busy. Sadly enough she couldn't come up with many things. Thereby Russia had a rather quick pace, so she had to make sure she was keeping up with him as well.

After they had returned from their walk, England went to her study. She was disappointed to see that her boss had sent her more work. When she was done with a few issues, three knocks disturbed her from her work. Russia opened the door, and entered the room.

"Can I do something?" he asked.

She blinked, "What do you mean?"

"I'm bored," he said.

"Um, I can't do anything now. Is there anything you'd like to do?"

He just shrugged.

She frowned, "Can't you stay still a little longer? I've still got some work to do, so I can't help you right now."

His ears went back, but England couldn't tell what it meant.

"I'm used to working almost every day, or working out, or doing something. Don't tell me to do nothing."

"I think there're some video games down stairs."

He stared at her as if she told him something ridiculous, "Games?"

England averted her eyes from him. He didn't look like a gamer at all; it hadn't been a very good suggestion. Though, what else should she think of? America and Canada had always loved all sorts of games.

"Well, I'm sorry. I usually spend my free time reading or something like that, so I don't have much to keep you busy with. Would you like to read?"

"Fine," he sighed.

His ears went down a little. She didn't have to be a professional to be able to tell he wasn't interested. Whether he had became more active due to the spell, or just because he actually didn't like sitting around for so long, she couldn't tell. She went downstairs with him, to her study-library. The wooden door opened with a soft creak. The room smelled dusty. England didn't dislike it; the scent of the old, valuable books was comforting. There was a desk with a comfy chair, and some old sofas. There were a number of big bookshelves; they were stuffed with all kinds of books.

"Enjoy," she said, and left him alone.

Swiftly she returned to her work. After about a half hour she was ready. Since Russia hadn't returned, she thought she'd best use this time to do some research as well. There were plenty of sites on the internet that explained everything about the emotions of dogs through their body language. England read carefully through the information.

She had lost track of time. While looking up some pictures to get an image of the basic emotions of dogs, she glanced at the clock. Another thirty minutes had past. She quickly finished what she was doing.

As she went downstairs, England wondered which book had kept him busy. She got an ominous feeling when she entered the study and noticed it was empty.

"Russia?"

There was no response, only complete silence. The bookshelves and couches looked untouched. She went back to the hall, and called him several times. He wasn't in the living room, or in the kitchen. She returned to the hallway, and wondered whether he might have gone upstairs. Suddenly, a long shadow was cast over her. A big hand tapped her shoulder. Even though she had noticed him, she jumped slightly at the touch.

"Have you been looking for me?" He asked calmly.

She turned around swiftly, "Err, yes. Where have you been?"

"In your garden."

She thought of all her beautiful roses and other plants. "What did you do to my garden?"

His ears pricked in her direction. At first she slightly confused it with him being alert, which wasn't very logic. He was probably just paying attention to her, which gave her a better feeling. At least she was now able to tell how well he was listening to her.

"Nothing, but being bored outside is less worse than being bored inside. The weather is nice, it's not as cold as it was this morning."

That was a compliment she rarely heard. It did make sense, as it was coming from Russia, who dealt with temperatures underneath zero most of the time. She was glad to hear that he hadn't done any damage to her garden.

"Why didn't you read a book?" she asked, a bit confused.

He shrugged, "I could not read most of them."

England realised some of her books were written in old English. Most of them were written in a way that you should not expect a foreigner to understand them anyway.

"My apologies," she said, "Want to do something now? Or shall we see what we can do about the magic?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment, before he parted his lips, "Just a walk would be fine now, it's sunny. We'll do something about the magic when it gets colder again."

She knew he could go out on his own. He was perfectly capable of going to the park, and finding his way back, though she accompanied him. She partly did it because she wanted to feel like a good host. On the other hand, England had noticed that when she made a walk every day, she felt fresher, less tired, and even slept a bit better. The weather was getting colder every day, but maybe she should really enjoy the sunshine a little more.

"I'll show you a part of London," she suggested as they were leaving.

He nodded, "That's fine."

"Is there anything specific you'd want to see or visit?"

"Um, not really. I'd prefer not to go to a very crowded place," he said, unconsciously fiddling with the end of his scarf.

She nodded, "I have a few interesting places, though if you want to avoid a lot of people, I guess some big park would be fine."

He nodded. She somehow felt a little proud when she could tell from his ears and his slightly swaying tail that he was happy.

They headed towards the park she had in mind. England lived in a suburb of London; it wouldn't take long to get there. Russia seemed elated to go out. He was walking at a regular pace. He had long legs, and hence longer strides, so his regular pace was rather fast. England had a little trouble with keeping up.

After a while, they were in central London. Occasionally, England would look at Russia out of the corner of her eye. Since they had entered the busier part of the city, she had spotted little hints in his body language that gave away he was getting a little uncomfortable. His ears and tail were covered up, but the not so happy smile tugged at his lips. Sometimes she could see faint movement underneath the ushanka or his coat. It made her a little nervous as well. She guided them to Hyde Park, one of her largest parks, with the hope he'd relax there.

After a few minutes though, Russia still didn't seem to get much calmer. He was still walking rather fast with long strides, and little by little she was getting more and more frustrated with it.

"Hey," she drew his attention, "Can you walk a little slower?"

He continued walking, but looked aside, his violet eyes meeting hers, "Why?"

She frowned, slightly irritated, "Because your legs are obviously longer than mine. I don't want to run after you all the time."

Russia looked at her legs, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable for a moment. It was probably just her imagination, but it looked like his eyes seemed to rest on her hips a few seconds longer than necessary. Was he checking her out? She probably hadn't seen it right. He was just generally looking at her. Maybe there was something wrong with her pants? She swiftly looked down, and everything seemed to be fine. It was just her imagination. She forced the thought out of her head. When he looked back to her face, she stared intensely at the sandy path they were walking on, to avoid eye contact. Maybe he had actually checked her out? She mentally kicked the thought away, along with the flattered feeling she tried to deny.

"You're keeping up fine," he noted.

She snapped her head back to look at him, "But I'd like you to slow down."

"Well, sorry," he said, sounding a bit annoyed, "It's not my fault that you're short."

England huffed. It didn't make her feel much better even when Russia slowed down. She didn't really intend to cause trouble, nor did he seem to want that. Of course he wanted to go faster, because he had some energy to walk off. Then again, he didn't seem to want to piss off England too much. She was finally walking at a regular pace. She avoided looking at him and kept her bottle green eyes focused on the nature that surrounded them. She clenched her jaw.

"What? Are you mad because I walk fast?" He asked, still sounding annoyed.

She glared at him, "No."

Ivan shrugged, "Then what are you mad for?"

"I'm not mad!" she snapped.

England couldn't understand how he couldn't know what he did wrong. Russia sighed, and looked around. There were no people around. This part of the park seemed to be empty and silent. The nice variety of trees and flowers decorated the park. Ivan took his ushanka off. His hair was messy, and his ears were visible now. He shook his head roughly but shortly, as if to get his hair right. She remembered from her research that such shaking could be a way to relieve tension. It was like shaking the stress off, literally. He sighed, and looked up to the soft blue sky. His slightly relaxed ears showed that he was generally calm, but regularly they perked up, revealing that he was actually rather wary of his surroundings. They didn't speak anymore to each other. Russia sometimes picked up his own pace again, when not paying attention to England. Occasionally he slowed down quickly when he noticed the distance between himself and England grew.

On their way home England said she'd have to buy some groceries. He put his ushanka back on. They stopped at a store nearby her house. Russia curiously looked around, not specifically searching something. He was distracted by the strong smell of meat. The scent of beef had his attention first, but he also noticed the milder smell of some chicken, among others. He followed his nose to the back of the store. The smell was very appetizing, and made him hungry. He poked England's arm as she passed by. She looked up at him and frowned.

"Can I have this sausage?"

England sighed, "No."

"Please?" he said, his puppy eyes already blinking innocently at her.

"No!" she said, slightly irritated because he was trying to manipulate her with an easy trick like that.

He seemed a bit taken aback by her angered reaction, and let her walk away. He sighed, and England could see him look at the sausages with the desire of a hungry dog. She rolled her eyes, another worry. She knew dogs, unlike cats, couldn't feel when they've had enough. Most dogs were also a lot less picky than cats. She dearly hoped Russia wouldn't stuff himself with meat and other crap. Sometimes she wondered whether America didn't already have that issue.

They arrived home about twenty minutes later. England announced she'd start preparing dinner. She put one of the bags on the table. Russia held another, heavier bag, but didn't seem to feel the weight of the groceries at all. He placed it on the table as well.

"I'll make dinner," he said.

England didn't agree with that. He was obviously telling he didn't want her to cook because of her bad cooking skills. What bothered England even more was that he didn't listen at all to what she was saying. Of course he was a fairly good cook, but it made her feel like a bad hostess. She wanted him to leave her alone, but feared raising her voice. She couldn't yell at her guests. Instead, she adopted an overly sweet tone, "No, you've made enough food. I'll make food."

Russia looked up, slightly confused. He cocked his head to the left. He didn't seem to register the suppressed anger behind it at all. England didn't give a damn about his questioning stare. He scratched his neck, "Um, it's fine. You can work or do something else."

"I'd like to decide what I do and when I do it in my own house. Thank you."

She smiled to him, and could imagine it started too look slightly murderous. He looked confused and uncomfortable, and she hoped these feelings were enough to make him go away.

She was unpacking the things they had bought, and he did the same, only slower. Her movement was quick, and she put everything down with a little too much force. After unpacking everything, he finally started to leave. Before he went elsewhere, he turned back around to her.

"Can I help you with preparing dinner?"

"No," she said sweetly but firmly, mentally shoving him out of the kitchen, "I am perfectly fine on my own."

She was getting seriously irritated. Russia looked troubled, and his ears turned away from her. As she had hoped, he turned around, and left her alone.

"Okay," he muttered.

As she prepared dinner, she felt worries and bothersome thoughts coming up. Had she let him do too much? He had been cooking for them after all, and she was supposed to be the hostess. She frowned; maybe it was her own fault, though she hadn't asked him to do it. He hadn't even really offered it, but just did it. Even if that was true, she still was the host. She almost wanted to scold herself for allowing that to happen. Instead, she tried to focus on cooking.

Time passed as she was preparing dinner. In her own opinion, the food didn't look that bad at all. She placed it in the oven. It would take about twenty minutes, or a half hour, she wasn't sure, to get ready. As she was waiting for the food to get ready, she picked up a book. She had the tendency to let books linger around in some places. Her eyes danced over the sentences. It only took a few words to get her completely into the story.

A while later, something pricked her nose. It was the unpleasant smell of burned food. She nearly dropped her book. Instead, she roughly threw it somewhere on the table, and hurried to her oven. A cloud of dark smoke escaped when she opened it. She waved it away with her hand, and took oven mitts to take out what was left. The leftovers were completely blackened and hard. Carefully she placed it on the counter. She always had to fail at cooking. It never came out the way she wanted to, and the more she tried the worse the result was. England glared at it, as if that would magically solve her problem. She knew she wasn't a great cook, but it did bother her at times like this. Now she felt like Russia could have a good laugh at her, or tell her something along the lines of 'See, I told you I should have cooked.' She was really tired of it.

"Everything okay?" Russia came in.

England turned around. She glared at Russia. He looked alarmed, and didn't come closer to her. His ears were pointing away from her, slightly down, showing that he had no intention to make her mad.

"Why do you ask?" she snarled, crossing her arms.

Russia blinked, and didn't really know what to say, "Um, I was just wondering what smelled so, err, strange."

"I don't need your comments," she spat stubbornly.

Ivan sighed, not interested in her prickly behaviour, and came a little closer, "You didn't burn yourself, did you?"

"No," she said angered, and backed away a little.

"Well then, that matters the most, da?" Ivan said.

He walked past England, and bent down to clean up the mess she had made. She watched how he carefully picked everything up. He threw everything in the bin.

"Now we don't have anything to eat," she commented.

Russia turned around to face her, "Too bad."

It bothered England that he didn't seem to care about anything at all. She clenched her hands into tight fists. "You know what? _Fuck_ _it_!"

Russia's ears flopped down, "It's just-"

"No!" she cut him off, "It's not just food, but it's you!"

He returned her angry look, but kept his voice down. "Then tell me what I should do."

"Listen to me!" she spat.

"Okay! Go ahead, tell me!"

"I already told you!"

He raised his hands in the air to emphasize his words, "Told me what?!"

"You don't understand anything it all! You don't even care!" she also raised a hand.

She knew she was yelling things that would only confuse him further, but she was too frustrated to care. It was a mess in her head, and it came out in forced bits. He stared at her with a pissed off glare. She wasn't aware of the potential danger she found herself in. Russia shook his head slowly, calming himself down just a little.

"What?" she barked.

"How do you expect me to care if I don't even understand it?"

She blinked, then scowled, "You speak English, yes? You don't need a dictionary to understand."

Russia clenched his jaw, clearly not happy with her answer. He muttered something in Russian under his breath, and left the kitchen. Her fingers rose to her temples, and she rubbed them in an attempt to calm down. Then she opened a window, to let some fresh air in. She stood there a few minutes, staring at the floor. The cold air filled the room, and she shivered. She closed the window again. Since she didn't want to screw anything up again, she retreated to her room as well.

Slowly she slipped underneath her bed sheets. She wore thicker pyjamas, which kept her warm even thought the temperatures outside were dropping steadily. Central heating was also keeping her house warm, though the warmer her bed, the better. She actually thought back about how Russia slept with her a few nights ago. He had been a source of heat, and she had enjoyed the warmth most certainly. The thought about Russia didn't make her very happy now though, and she tried to empty her mind. England was shifting and trying to sleep in different positions, but it didn't seem to help much. This was going to be a tiring night.

While she lay awake in her bed, Ivan was lying in the next room. His eyes were closed. He was ignoring his thoughts, and his hunger, as he slowly fell asleep.

* * *

So, what do you think of it? Are they still in character? Is their fight kinda realistic? Was Russia totally checking her out? °3°

Review~


	6. Chapter 6

Another late update.. But things will get really interesting between them soon ^^  
Thank you SirenAlpha, for being my beta!

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Chapter VI

"Привет," Russia greeted England in his mother language.

"Privyet," She imitated his words, and sat down.

He liked it when she said something in Russian to him. He missed his home and speaking his own language. He had woken England merely a few minutes ago for breakfast. She had slept in, probably unintentionally. He was glad she seemed calm. When he put a plate in the middle of the table, his stomach growled. There was a tower of pancakes on it, their smell filling the air. He took two empty plates, and laid one in front of England. She rubbed her eyes sleepily.

"I didn't know you liked pancakes," she noted, her voice still soft.

He liked her voice like this. "They're blinis."

"What?" England muttered.

Russia put three of them on her plate. She picked her fork up, and poked them.

"Russian pancakes, da? Long ago, they were the symbol of the sun. Ukraine used to make them at the end of the winter. Now I still have a pancake week once a year."

"Canada would be thrilled."

He smiled, "Sometimes he visits me during pancake week. By the way, I'm also going to make blintzes later."

England slowly started eating, "Blintzes?"

"Another dish with pancakes. You'll see. It's very tasty," he smiled.

England nibbled on her food. By the time Russia had finished his second blini, she was only halfway the first one.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking up from her plate to her face.

She didn't look up, "I'm fine."

She started eating faster, as if she didn't like that he had noticed. He didn't comment. They ate in silence, until England put her fork down. She had eaten only two pancakes, and stood up.

"Where are you going?" he asked, curiously.

She didn't turn around to him, "Up."

His eyes followed her as she walked away. She walked with short, elegant strides, her hips swaying subtly with every step. She was wearing thicker pyjamas because of the cold. Sadly enough, they also hid her curves. She was barefoot, and he could see her small feet. He glanced at her plate, and took her remaining blini. Hopefully this day would be better than the previous one.

"Let's get to the magic, shall we?" England said, once she had returned downstairs.

Russia had just been waiting in the kitchen, thinking about a few unimportant matters. He didn't know how many minutes had passed. He stood up and followed her. As they walked down the hallway on the first floor, Russia suddenly stopped. England noticed, and turned around. Russia frowned, and listened carefully. England seemed to study his facial expression.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He listened closely, "There's someone opening your front door."

England blinked, "Oh- crap!"

She quickly walked away. He followed her. The very second he saw who was standing in the door, he wanted to turn around and run. A sick feeling twisted his guts.

"Russia?" America asked with a confused expression.

He immediately covered his dog-ears with his hands, and kept his tail behind him. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds.

"America, for goodness sake what did I tell you about sneaking into my house!"

The American's attention was drawn away from Russia, "Well, you shouldn't leave your spare keys in the same place all the time. I need to be in Germany for some stuff so I thought I'd bop in on the way"

"And what's wrong with just ringing the bell or calling me?"

He shrugged, "Dude, chill, I'm just here to hang out, you know."

"You better not-"

He cut her off, "Anyways, what's Russia doing here?"

America's eyes watched him warily, with a threatening expression on his face. Russia returned the glare, but didn't bring his hands down.

"Business," England spat, "Of which none is yours!"

"I thought we could have a nice chat, but seems like someone's not going to let that happen."

America came closer to Russia, but for every step he made, Russia went one back.

"What are you doing here?" America asked.

The Russian glared at him, "For as far as I know, this isn't your house."

"You don't really have any business with England. Don't you need to be somewhere else? Why don't you leave now, hm?"

When Russia opened his mouth to answer, America took another big step forwards. They were right in front of each other with barely a meter between them.

"Whatcha hiding there?"

"I don't think that's your biggest concern."

This seemed to displease the American, "Oh, is there something I don't know about? Is it something you did? What happened?"

"Nothing," he spat, still covering his ears with his hands.

"Then show me what you're hiding!"

"No!"

America suddenly leapt forward. He pinned the taller nation on the ground. In the process, he had grabbed his hands, and moved them away from his head. He stared at the two dog-ears with a disturbed expression; and just when he wanted to say something, a noise made him snap his mouth shut. Russia growled, deep and dangerously.

"The hell-"

Russia rolled over, pinning America down this time.

"Idiot," the nation snarled between his growling.

"You're the freaking idiot! What did you do?!"

America's bright blue eyes shimmered with a violent emotion as he tried to get the Russian off him.

"I didn't do anything," he growled.

"I don't believe you!"

England stood a little startled as she watched the two fighting. It had started off as a little dominant behaviour, but now they were in a serious fight.

"Stop it!" she yelled at them.

They ignored her, and continued their 'rough play'. She clenched her hands into fists, but it was already too late. The sound of breaking glass and splashing water silenced the both of them. All three nations stared at the shards of what once had been an expensive vase. The water stained the carpet, and the flowers lay spread across the floor.

"That was Russia's fault!" The American yelled.

"It wasn't!" he yelled back.

"It was!"

"It wasn't!"

They almost started a fight again, until England made her presence felt.

"Shut up!"

They immediately silenced, and looked at her.

"America," she said, clearly suppressing her anger, "Get out."

"No! I totally came over to have some fun! He's the bad guy! He'll do something dangerous!"

"Get. Out."

"But I only wanted to spend some time with you, and show you something cool!"

"Out!"

"What about the Russki?"

"If you make me repeat myself one more time, I will make sure you will never ever be able to set foot in this house again. Have I made myself clear, Alfred?"

Russia was surprised to hear she used his personal name this time. It seemed to be effective though. He nodded quickly, and got up again. He left the house, mocking about it being Russia's fault underneath his breath. When closing the door behind him, America shot Russia one last glare.

"And you," England drew Russia's attention back, "Clean the mess you made."

He was smart enough to know he shouldn't piss her off more. He nodded, and started picking up the biggest shards with his bare hands. England left, and went to the kitchen. He threw the biggest shards away safely, and then took a dustpan and brush for the smaller pieces of glass. England returned to the living room, and settled herself in the couch. She sipped from her cup of tea. She kept her gaze lowered, clearly not wanting to see him. After having removed all the glass, Russia picked up the flowers.

"Where do I put these?"

England didn't look up, "In another vase."

He looked down, to the floor. She was doing a good job at making him feel uncomfortable, because he felt a little guilty for what had happened.

"Where do I find one?"

"In the garden, there should be an empty vase somewhere. Leave them there."

He quickly brought the flowers away. That idiotic American had ruined his day. Russia clenched his fists as he walked back to the living room. He opened them again, feeling a burn in his hand. He stopped, and stared at the shard that had almost disappeared in his skin.

"What are you doing?" England asked. She sounded cold but calm.

"I'm bleeding."

She was still avoiding looking him in the eye, "Don't bleed on my carpet."

He sighed, and left her alone. He went upstairs to the bathroom and searched for tweezers. Carefully he tried to pluck the shard out. It was about a square centimetre in size, and diagonally shoved into his skin. Unfortunately, it was in his right hand. His left hand trembled and had poor fine motor skills, as he was right-handed. After a few failed attempts to get it out, he put the tweezers away and carefully used his nails to get the thing out from underneath his skin. Luckily, he held his hand above the sink because blood was dripping from his palm. Once the shard had been removed, he washed the blood off his hands and disinfected the wound. He found a bandage and wrapped it around his hand. He checked the clock. Surprisingly, a half an hour had passed since America's arrival.

He went back down, and saw England still sitting on the couch. Her cup was now empty, and sitting on the table in front of her. She had pulled up her feet up onto the couch, and wrapped her arms around her knees. It seemed like she hadn't noticed him. He stood there for a while, not really knowing what to do. Eventually, he moved forward.

"I'm sorry," he said as he sat down in an armchair next to her.

"Yeah, sure, you two spent a few minutes in the same room, and couldn't keep from fighting."

"I wasn't the one that had started it."

England shot him a glare, "Nor the one that ended it."

"That's why I'm saying sorry, and also for the vase."

She looked over the television, which was turned off; "Hmpf."

"Англия (Angliya)," he started.

"What?" she snapped, getting a little annoyed.

He stared at the floor, and then looked up at her, "Don't be mad."

"I can't be mad? You just had a fight in my house, broke my vase, and I can't be mad? And what makes you feel like you can tell me not to be mad?!"

He stood up, and came closer to her. She looked up to him. He hovered over her. It seemed like she realised whom she was talking to. Though, there was no trace of anger on his face. She probably thought he was threatening her anyway.

"What makes me feel like I can tell you?" he repeated the question, "I like annoying some people. I like seeing them getting frustrated. It makes me feel good and powerful."

He bent down to her, just a little. Her big, green eyes stubbornly stared back at him.

"But I don't feel good or powerful when you're mad, or sad."

She was silent, and watched him, waiting for more explanation. Russia sat down next to her now.

"I hope that's enough of a reason to you."

"I shouldn't be angry because you feel sad about it?" she huffed, but she didn't sound frustrated anymore.

Russia shook his head, "I don't want you to be angry, because it makes me feel sad. I'm not saying you should not be angry, I just don't want it. That's a different thing."

She didn't seem to respond. She distracted herself al little by inspecting her nails, but she seemed calm. They sat there for a few minutes, neither of them knowing what to say. He realised that the last time he had been so close to her for so long was during the time he'd lost his memory and had slept at her side. He wondered what she thought of that, if it hadn't bothered her. He didn't dare ask her. She had allowed it, though, so it couldn't have been that bad.

Finally he stood up again, "I'm going to make blintzes, da? It's not like a real lunch, but it's very tasty."

She didn't answer. He went to the kitchen, and started making some pancakes. He didn't make too many of them because England didn't eat that much. Besides, he could always make more another time. Even though he hadn't made many pancakes, a half hour quickly passed. He took some cottage cheese they had bought yesterday, and smeared it over the pancakes. Carefully he rolled them up, and that was it. He used to make the filling himself, but he'd rather do it at home with ingredients he knew. In the end, he put the plates on the table, and went back to the living room.

"Англия (Angliya)," he called, "The blintzes are ready."

She nodded, and stood up. He was relieved when she looked like she had put the incident behind her. They sat down at the table. There was no frustration visible on her face. Maybe she was a bit tired, but that wasn't so bad.

England wrinkled her nose slightly as she took a bite. She chewed carefully, as if it would explode if she ate too quickly.

"Don't you like them?" Russia asked with a sad tone.

She swallowed, and looked at him. As she parted her lips, his ears slowly went down.

"Well," she started.

He looked at her with his big, violet eyes. Her emerald eyes stared at him with doubt. Her mood changed. Little details in her face gave her away as he watched her be manipulated by his puppy-dog-eyes. He couldn't stop a happy feeling spreading in his body whenever she looked at him like that, because she looked at him as if he were cute and nice. He liked her attention, especially when she wasn't mad. He liked looking in her eyes anyways. Next to that, though she didn't know it, Russians were persuasive in all kinds of way.

"They're not bad. They're okay," she finally said, and turned her head away.

There was a soft blush on her cheeks. He smiled happily, and wondered whether her blush wasn't one of the things that made him happy. She peeked at him from the corners of her eyes, and turned back to him with a frown.

"You're doing it on purpose!"

He gave her an innocent look, the big smile still playing on his lips, "What do you mean?"

"That face, thing, you're doing that cute face to make me say nice things!"

Russia put on a sad face, dropping his ears and looking guiltily at her, "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Cheater," she huffed, blushing and looking away.

"I thought you liked it?" he asked, smiling again.

She looked him in the eyes, as if challenging him, "What makes you think so?"

He grinned, "Because you called me cute~"

The more she reddened with the realisation, the wider his grin became.

"Ah, uh, that's not true. I, I said your face was cute, um, but," her cheeks were fiery red.

Russia started laughing. He laid his hand on her shoulder, "I'm kidding with you, da?"

She was still for a moment, and looked curiously at him. He shortly wondered what was going through that pretty head of her. They stared in each other's eyes for a few seconds.

"So, are you going to eat your blintz?" he said, going back to the actual topic, turning to the food on his own plate.

She shook her head, her cheeks slowly getting their natural colour back, "No."

He turned to her with a stern, almost threatening look, "In that case, I'll have to feed them to you."

Immediately she turned bright red again, and looked startled. Russia's happy smile reappeared on his face, and he started laughing again. She was silent, and pretty embarrassed.

"Don't do that again," she muttered stubbornly.

"Can't promise anything," he said, taking a bite of his blintz.

* * *

I'm not too happy about this chapter, but it'll get better ^^ What do you guys think of it? And how was America? He's going to return, and cause more trouble. How convincing can Russia be? He'll definitely use this trick more in the future.  
I'll be trying to update about once or twice a month from now on, that should work.

Review~ !


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the late update! My extern hard drive crashed and that caused some delay.. Anyways, here's the new chapter, and I hope you guys will like it!  
Thank you, SirenAlpha, for betareading!  
Enjoy~ !

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England sat on the couch, a cup of tea in her hand. She watched the news, but nothing worrying or interesting was happening. Russia came down. She ignored him as he walked in, her attention directed on the weather forecast. Only when he sat down next to her, her attention faltered. Slightly tensed, she wanted to sip some more tea from her cup, but realised it was already empty.

"Did anything interesting happen?" Russia asked casually.

She slowly turned her head to meet his violet eyes, "Um, not really."

Shortly, she wondered whether she was the only one who felt weird with him sitting so close. It wasn't something bad, but she felt a little strange with him so close. He seemed relaxed, watching the television with mild interest. She took a deep breath, and sighed. He sat less than half a meter away, and she had the feeling the temperature was rising. It was as if she could feel the heat his body emitted, or was that just her imagination?

He looked at her with a little smile, "It's going to get cold this week."

She nodded slowly, and didn't really know what to say. She hadn't paid attention to the weather forecast at all, barely noticing it had already finished. "You're used to it, aren't you?"

He shrugged, "I guess so, but I don't really like it. Does that make sense to you?"

Russia leaned slightly towards her, still smiling innocently. She searched for words, but she couldn't think of anything that would make sense. She shrugged, and tried to continue the conversation somehow.

"Um, I don't really know. You don't like it? Then what do you do when it's cold?"

For a moment he averted his eyes downwards, "Make some warm drink, and sit in front of the fireplace."

It was hard for her to figure out the emotion behind his words. Was he remembering it as good times, or did he feel sad about it? Briefly, she glanced at her fireplace. She hadn't used it since last winter and figured it wouldn't hurt to make a fire again.

"Do you like doing that?" she asked.

For some reason, she found everything she said not good enough. She felt like her brain had temporarily limited her thinking, and that she had trouble with sorting out her thoughts properly. It was as if Russia was a jammer, drawing her attention and making her fumble a little over her words.

"It's," he seemed to think about how to put it in words, "not unpleasant."

His eyes met hers. When he spoke, her thoughts died away for a moment, and her head was filled with his voice. It felt strange, and she didn't understand why it was happening. She listened to his answer, repeated it in her head. Instead of trying to find something useful to say, she caught herself just thinking about his words.

"Not unpleasant?" she mumbled, and looked away.

Great, now she felt like she was his echo.

"It's warm, but, also cold."

She looked up to him, with questioning eyes. It seemed like he had a little trouble with saying his thoughts the way he wanted to. He sighed softly, she felt like she had caught a glimpse of his emotions behind his violet eyes. It wasn't like before, she wasn't just staring at his face, she was looking into his eyes. He was allowing her to peek into the emotions hidden behind the violet.

"The fire is warm, but, it's cold when you're alone."

They looked in each other's eyes, and she could see what he felt behind his words. It wasn't just being alone, he was lonely. She felt like she was carefully entering his mind, gently touching his thoughts with her fingertips. No matter how hot the flames might've been, they couldn't warm the cold inside. They couldn't reach in his chest and change the icy feeling, like chains around a lonely heart. She knew what loneliness was. She knew what it meant to feel all alone. It didn't matter if there were plenty of people that knew you and wouldn't mind spending time with you. She knew what he felt, what he had felt. Could he see something in her emerald eyes as well?

She didn't feel uncomfortable anymore, because of his calm and friendly expression. Seeing the emotions she could catch behind his purple eyes was like looking into a whole new world.

He blinked and looked down, a very light blush colouring his cheeks. She suddenly felt her cheeks heat as well, and looked back at the playing television. There had been something in his eyes, soft and vulnerable, and he had let her see it. There was more, there was so much more behind his eyes. What she had experienced now was just a spark of the whole world of feelings and thoughts that he was made of.

She looked back at him from the corner of her eye, and saw him doing the same. Feeling slightly weird, she stood up, and felt his eyes follow her. She felt like she was escaping the strange mood they had created for a moment.

"I'm going to get myself more tea", she mumbled, "Do you want some too?"

He nodded, the smile on his face was merely polite. As soon as she had left the room, she felt like she could breathe again, though she couldn't deny the urge to go back. She wanted to be there, for a reason she hadn't figured out yet.

When she returned to the living room, she saw him staring at the TV. He was not looking at the program though; it was easy to tell he was deep in thought. He looked up when she sat down next to him, seemingly not even having noticed her entering the room. She handed him his tea, and he carefully took it from her. Their hands touched, but she pretended it hadn't happened.

"You have cold hands," he said, putting his cup down.

Russia gently took her hand, and she noticed how big his hands were compared to hers. Her skin was healthy but a little dry, and her nails painted with glossy, transparent polish. His skin was rough, but the warmth of his hands embraced hers. He reached out for her other hand, and she willingly gave it to him. He looked at her, happiness playing on his face. A little smile tugged her lips, and she knew she was blushing. She looked down, and couldn't think of anything to say. There was a certain tension in her belly, a special kind of energy snaking through her body. They were both silent for a moment. When she peeked at Russia from the corner of her eyes, she could see the light blush on his cheeks. She had the impression he wasn't planning to let her go soon. This didn't really bothering her, but the unusual feeling she had, and the almost intimate atmosphere made her a little insecure and nervous. She didn't understand why he did this, and why it affected her this way.

"The tea will get cold," she said, barely audible.

His hands released hers, and he seemed to take all warmth with him. For a brief moment she wanted him to forget about the tea and return to her.

The peaceful atmosphere between them was disturbed by a few loud knocks on the door. England didn't even need to open the door to know who was behind them, but she hoped it was someone else anyway. Russia looked alarmed, but she could read from his face that he also knew who was there. Swiftly she got up, and, for a moment she could feel his eyes following her, he stood up as well. He didn't follow her, but instead went up.

"I'll be in my room," he mumbled.

His words were just loud enough for her to hear before he disappeared. She had heard the annoyance in his voice. She wondered whether he was more annoyed by who was behind the door, or that this person had disturbed the moment. Slowly, she opened the door, and briefly doubted which one bothered her most.

"Yes?" she said with a frown.

Her eyes stared in the blue ones of her former colony. He smiled brightly, but she could catch a hint of nervousness as he fumbled with the edge of his sleeves.

"Hey, England, yeah, so, I actually had a question," he scratched the back of his head as he spoke.

Impatiently, she raised her eyebrow, "Yes?"

"Could I stay over for a night?"

She was slightly taken aback by his sudden question, and she felt like her mind was now completely returning to normal, "I'm sorry?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, you see, I left a little earlier from Germany and I only have a flight tomorrow evening, and I kind of had hoped I could stay at your place till then."

England sighed. Of course the American wanted to invite himself in again. On the other hand, if Russia hadn't been here, she wouldn't have had such a problem with letting her friend stay over. He used to crash at her place every once in a while when he had to stay in Europe, though this would be a little difficult. She really didn't want another fight or more trouble, but she couldn't really say no either. She knew he would immediately assume Russia was more important than he was, and that would make things even worse. She bit her lip for a moment, deciding.

"Please?" he said, leaning forward.

"Well," she inhaled deeply, "Only under my conditions."

"Yay!" he shouted.

He already wanted to shove her aside, enter her house and find some food and a couch.

"No! Wait," she said.

She held her hand defensively in front of her, and blocked the way in.

He frowned, "What?"

"Maybe you should actually agree to my conditions first, hm?"

America shrugged, "I agree."

" You haven't even heard them!" she barked, getting frustrated with his carelessness.

"Okay, what is it?"

" You won't make a mess, you won't eat everything you find in my kitchen, you will clean your room before you leave, and," she gave him a stern look, "You will behave politely towards Russia."

He stiffened a little when the other nation was mentioned. He looked at her with rebellion shimmering in his bright eyes. He had never really cleaned his messes, and it wouldn't be the first time he emptied her fridge. She had never really minded it anyway. It was her last condition that made him clench his jaw.

"Why is he still here?"

England shrugged, "That doesn't matter. He is my guest, and if you want to stay for the night you better act decently. I'm serious, America."

He sighed loudly, "Fine. Whatever!"

Before he could attempt to enter her house, she crossed her arms stubbornly, still blocking the way in, and glared at the younger nation. He rolled his eyes dramatically.

" I will be a good boy and clean after myself and be polite and yada yada yada."

She nodded and unwillingly stepped aside. He finally was allowed to come in. She quickly closed the door behind him.

"I mean it, America, I won't hesitate to kick you out."

He stopped, and turned to her with the smile of an angel, "Yes, mommy."

She glared at him, but he turned around again and walked off to the living room. Her eyes followed him as he sat down in the couch. The couch where she had sat with Russia, merely minutes ago. As she sat down in the armchair, she saw how his eyes seemed to search for the Russian for a moment. There was a little silence, and he smiled brightly again. Coast clear, for now.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?"

He nodded eagerly, "Yeah! I'm starving!"

She stood up again, and left him alone in the room. She entered the kitchen, and thought about what she'd serve him. While she looked through the cupboards and in the fridge, she noted how Russia had been using the kitchen lately. There were a few products of which she was sure he had gotten them because she had never used them. She grabbed the plate with the pancakes they hadn't eaten. She made herself some tea, and found a single can of coke that was always around somewhere, in case someone like America visited.

* * *

_[America's point of view]_

England had disappeared, and he was alone in the room. It didn't take him long to sense something different about the house. It didn't smell like it usually did. The faint smell of old, dusty books, the wet outdoors, tea and mint had made place for the smell of decent food and the kind of smell that reminded him of a certain nation he wasn't fond of. Russia had been here for a few days already, he could tell easily. His scent, though America would rather call it stench, had already taken its place in her house.

He had noticed another thing. When he had sat down on the couch, it had been warm. Someone, whomever it may have bene, had sat here not long ago. As soon as England had gone to the kitchen, he had laid his hand on the place next to him. His hand rested on the cushion. It was warm. Two people had sat here; they had sat here, together.

Of course, he didn't mind people sitting in couches, but it worried the American. Why would England and Russia sit so close to each other? England didn't like being near to people; she could be so asocial. Why would she want to sit right next to that creep when she had enough space elsewhere? He started to imagine all kinds of dramatic scenes where he threatened her or intimidated her.

On the other hand, he knew that England was a strong and clever woman, and she would find a way to distance Russia if she really wanted to. So, there had to be a reason why she allowed him to be close...

Before he could think any further, England entered the living room with tea, soda, and pancakes. She put them down in front of him and he happily started eating.

"What hour is your flight tomorrow?" she asked, sipping her tea slowly.

He shrugged, "7pm or something."

She nodded, and put her cup down. She was sitting in the armchair. He didn't understand why she would sit next to Russia in the sofa, while she was sitting in the armchair when he was there. How could she possibly be more comfortable with the Russian? Another question popped up in his head, one he would ask her.

"So, um, what are those weird ear things on his head exactly?"

England looked up, "What?"

"Russia, what's wrong with him?"

"Oh, that," an emotion he couldn't really place crossed her face, "Those are dog-ears."

"And _why_ does he have them?" America asked.

She rolled her eyes, "Magic."

"So, what exactly did you mess up?"

She glared at him, "It wasn't my fault."

"You mean it was his fault?" he said, frowning.

He could see she wanted to say 'no', but she changed her mind and didn't say anything for a moment.

"Doesn't matter. You've seen it. He has dog ears and a tail and such."

He raised an eyebrow, "And such?"

She clearly was a little frustrated by his interrogation, but he ignored it. "None of your business, really."

"So where is he? You put him in a giant dog crate or something?"

"Of course not. He'll come down later for dinner," she gave him a warning look, "You know you have to-"

"Be calm and polite and kiss his ass. You don't have to repeat it every five minutes."

She huffed, "You better remember."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, "Why is he suddenly so important?"

"For goodness' sake! America, you're behaving as if every nation I see is going to attempt to destroy me! You don't need to know everything about my private life!"

He ignored the first half of what she had said, but frowned at the last part. "So he's part of your private life?"

England clenched her fists and glared at him. He leaned back into the couch. He had pissed her off, and he knew it.

"America, if you're going to make me say it one more time, I swear, you're going to regret it."

He held his hands up, "Okay, okay, chill."

The American watched the older nation carefully, which was exactly what he would be doing for a while. Of course he could've caught a flight that day, but he wanted to make sure everything was fine here. When he'd leave tomorrow, he wanted to do that, knowing England was safe. If she was not safe with Russia, he'd remove the threat.

* * *

How was the kind of fluffy beginning? And what do you guys think of good old America? I'll probably update begin April, since I'll have two weeks of vacation.

THIS MIGHT BE INTERESTING: I'm also updating another story called "Paw Prints on His Heart", it's about female England turning into a cat, and Russia will be taking care of her (and he doesn't know the cat is England). It's cute and a little funny, and the chapters are shorter, but I update it about every weekend. Interested for more RusUK? Check out SirenAlpha's stories!

**Review~**


	8. Chapter 8

Finally, the chapter is updated. I notice some of you are bored and want more chapters, so I'll try to make the chapters shorter and update more frequently. I'll try to, I can't promise anything..  
Thank you **SirenAlpha** for betareading!  
Enjoy~ !

* * *

The room was filled with the smell of chicken and mashed potatoes. England cut her food in little pieces before eating it slowly. Her attention was directed at the two male nations at her table. It was silent, but there was tension in the air.

Russia ate like he usually did, but he didn't say a word and rarely looked up from his plate. He had left his room a while ago, when England had asked him to come down. Slightly embarrassed, she had asked him whether he could make dinner. He would have stayed in his room if he hadn't had to come down to make dinner.

America was behaving well so far. He hadn't said a word to Russia. He was eating the food without complaining, but he was leaving the vegetables untouched.

England put her knife and fork down. She had only eaten half of what was on her plate. The other two nations had finished eating as well. She stood up and moved to take their plates with her. Just before taking America's plate, she stopped herself.

"Why didn't you eat the vegetables?"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm not five. I don't need to eat them."

She put her free hand on her hip, "You should eat them instead of stuffing yourself with unhealthy snacks like you usually do."

"I don't want to eat them," he huffed and narrowed his eyes.

She knew she couldn't force him to eat them and shrugged stiffly, "Fine."

She took his plate and Russia's and left for the kitchen. America and Russia were alone in the room for a brief moment.

"What are you smirking for?" America asked sharply, but not too loudly.

Russia looked at him, the smirk still lingering on his lips, "Little America doesn't want to eat his veggies, now mommy is sad."

He shrugged, "I've been independent since 1776, and you know that too. Besides, you're the biggest in size, so I don't care if you call me 'little'."

"Independent? Big words for mommy's little boy."

The American slightly leaned forward, "I'm not little, and England is not my _mommy_."

"Of course," Russia said slowly as if America was a child, "You think you can make decisions on your own, don't you?"

The blue-eyed nation clenched his fists. His jaw was set, but he didn't move. When England entered the room again with little desserts, he tried to look less annoyed. The cakes England brought looked very tasty. She said she had bought it the other day, so America didn't worry about it tasting terrible. She left them again to make some tea for everyone to go with the cakes.

"She'll bring you some sweets and tea, talk a little to you, and make sure you don't do any stupid things, hm? I bet you like that so-called independence, where England helps you out, but you can pretend you can do it all on your own."

America almost growled, "I am independent, and I can take care of my own issues. Compared to other nations; I'm big. I've been independent for centuries now."

"Since 1776? That's nothing. You're so young and naïve, aren't you? I guess that pretty land of yours would become a catastrophe without England mothering over you."

"Keep England out of this."

Russia's eyes shimmered dangerously, "But she, among other influences, raised you, and they made a great place out of that landmass. Now you walk around and declare yourself independent, while many others obviously did a lot of hard work, and still do."

"Stop that!" America hissed, anger radiating from his body.

Russia raised an eyebrow and smirked, "You can't even stand hearing the truth."

"Because that's not it!"

"It's so childish of you to deny that you need others to look over you. You can't handle your nation on your own, America. Face it. You're not as independent as you swear to be. You're just a little boy, and-"

America jumped out of his seat, "No! You know what? Your nation sucks!"

"Amer-"

"Shut up!" he pointed his finger at the Russian, "You're economy is bad and your people are crazy!"

"America", Russia's voice had darkened, "If you're not planning to go to the hospital soon, I'd recommend you to shut up about my people."

"What's going on here?" England asked with annoyance as she walked into the room.

"Nothing!" the American yelled, frustrated, and held his hands up defensively, "Just a discussion!"

England didn't believe him, everyone knew that he preferred saying it had been a discussion than admitting they had been ready to fight.

She clenched her jaw and glared at him, "Sure, whatever. I'm out of sugar, so I'm going to ask the neighbours. I'll be back in a minute."

She left, sending a last warning glare towards the two men.

America had turned his back to Russia, who calmly leaned back into his chair. He was wondering whether he had annoyed the other nation enough, or whether he should go a little further.

America slowly started speaking, "You say I can't do anything on my own? I can assure you that my men got on the moon without any help. We were first, but I think you know that very well."

Russia glared at the nation, "First man in space was Russian. Even the first woman in space was Russian."

"Nobody cares! Nobody knows who they were! I'm sure all Commies knew the name of the first man on the moon though! You lost that race, and you know it very well!"

Russia raised himself from his chair as well, "Shut up. I've heard enough of your stupid talking."

His dark, low voice didn't scare the American. "I was first! I was the best, and I won! Seems like you can't face that!"

They stared right into each other's eyes for a moment, building up the tension in the room.

"You lost the Cold War too!"

"There were no winners in the Cold War."

"You were definitely a loser though! The Soviet Union fell apart!"

"If you don't shut your mouth now, you will regret it", Russia warned him one last time.

The American huffed, "You think you can tell me what to do? Well, guess what? I don't give a damn about what you say! You're just so full of yourself because you're the biggest in size, but actually you're just a pitiful, unwanted monster! You're a liar and a-"

"America."

England's voice made him freeze. Quickly, he turned to face her, "It's not what you think it is!"

"I don't even want to hear whatever story you have in your head!"

"He totally started!"

England tightened her free hand into a fist, "Of course! You never started it! It's never your fault!"

"Wait!" America raised his arms, "Listen to me! Don't just get mad at me!"

"I'm very patient with you America! You just cross the line every single time!"

"Not true!"

She raised her index finger and pointed towards the stairs before he could continue, "I've heard enough! Go to your room!"

"But I-"

"-Will go to my room because I can't behave!" England finished for him, "Now."

"Fine!" he yelled and marched away.

America closed the door behind him with a loud bang. He sat down on his bed and gritted his teeth. He didn't like it when England ordered him to do something, but he was staying over at her place. Russia made everything worse, and he had won this fight. That sly bastard had won this round, but America would make sure England would choose his side now.

Before he could start pondering how to pull a trick on the Russian, he realised his loss. It wasn't terrible to be in his room, but it was terrible that that monster was still out there. Russia could do anything to England now. He could be attempting revenge for the magic spell gone wrong.

America jumped up from his bed and started pacing around in the room. He couldn't just stay here. If England caught him outside of his room, he'd be in big trouble. Then again, that had never stopped him before, right? He put his phone on the nightstand. It'd be embarrassing if it made a noise and gave him away.

Silently, he sneaked out of his room and tiptoed down the stairs. They were in the kitchen. He carefully came closer, and listened.

"I told him to be polite, but I shouldn't be surprised that he didn't listen. I think I spoiled him too much sometimes."

Someone was washing the dishes, and the other nation was walking around. America quickly figured out it was Russia who was walking around, putting the cleaned cutlery and plates away. The footsteps were too heavy for England's weight.

"He was spoiled?" Russia asked, casually.

That bastard was getting information about America through unsuspicious England.

"I had a lot to do during those times. Sometimes, I wonder if it would have mattered if I had been there for the colonies more often."

He looked down for a moment, and recalled the many nights he had missed England. He could sometimes still faintly feel the need to have her next to him and have her take away all his worries and promise him everything would be okay. It would've mattered to him.

"So, when you were with America, you spoiled him?"

Russia's voice annoyed him. On the other hand, he could find out England's perspective of his childhood without having to directly ask her.

"Yeah. I guess I felt guilty for not visiting him often. He was such a young and adventurous boy. He'd bring me all kinds of wonderful flowers that I had never seen before. Before I knew it he had grown up into a young adult, and had become rebellious. It all happened so fast."

America was slightly surprised at hearing how things must have looked like for her. He didn't like thinking about the past. Both good and bad things had happened, but he liked to focus on a brighter future rather than contemplate the past.

"He doesn't look like he has changed much since the last few years", Russia shrugged.

"His personality hasn't changed much throughout the centuries actually."

"Ah, he's still a _little boy_."

America was startled, but stayed silent. That intonation, it was slow, as if he was ridiculing a little kid. _He knows I'm here_, America thought to himself and slightly panicked. He tried to ignore it.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe I was a little harsh to send him up like that earlier."

Yes, America wanted her to feel a little guilty and be nice to him again.

"No wonder he's so spoiled."

America gritted his teeth.

"You think so?"

There was a little silence. America had to remind himself that he would ruin everything if he were to jump out now and tell the Russian to shut up.

"Well," Russia paused shortly, "We don't want children who can't play nice, right?"

His voice was softer, a little melancholic, as if he were sighing over something he remembered from long ago. It made America feel more uncomfortable.

"I guess, but maybe he has calmed down now. I don't want him to sit there until tomorrow morning. Should I call him?"

Her voice was hesitating, but she seemed to say it to herself rather than asking Russia.

"I don't think that's necessary."

America could hear the smirk in his voice. How did he know that he was downstairs?

"Not necessary?"

"I just have a feeling that you don't need to call him."

America was getting nervous and wondered what the Russian would do next. Would he give more hints towards the American's hiding place?

"On the other hand, you might be right. He's your guest after all. Get him right now."

_No, no, no! _America held his breath as he slowly backed away.

"Um, okay", England mumbled.

He could hear her footsteps nearing. He hid behind the corner just in time, and quickly turned around. He ran as fast as he could without making any noise, cursed England's creaking stairs, and silently closed the door behind him. He hopped onto the bed and grabbed his phone.

The click of the door as it opened startled him, and he dropped his phone. The thing landed on the floor, and he avoided looking at England as he picked it up.

"Hey, America. Um, are you alright?"

"Sure", he answered too quickly.

His cheeks heated up, and he quickly put his phone away.

She frowned concernedly, "You're flustered, what were you doing?"

"Nothing," he blurted, and cursed himself for not being able to calm down faster.

"I don't think I want to know."

Great. Now she thought he had been watching something dirty.

"Do you want to come downstairs? Watch some TV and have a snack?" she asked.

A snack and TV, how could he possibly refuse? America smiled, "Sure."

He followed her downstairs. Russia was sitting in the armchair. There was some documentary about Antarctica on TV, and there were chips and other little snacks on the coffee table. England passed Russia, and sat down in the couch. America followed her, and sat down next to her. Russia raised his head when the American passed him.

"America," he said casually, "You have a _distinctive_ smell."

England frowned, but tried to relax and looked back at the TV. America raised an eyebrow, and wondered what that could've meant. Did he have a distinctive smell?

America's mouth opened slightly with realisation, and he looked unpleasantly surprised at the Russian. Quickly he closed his mouth again and frowned unhappily. He hadn't thought about that. Dang it, he had just plain forgotten Russia had some doglike features. The sneaky creep had noticed him because of his scent. His nose must have developed stronger sense of smell, so Russia could easily smell America's presence.

America shrugged and sat back. He looked at the television, and pretended to be paying attention to the film England had started. Even though Russia annoyed the American greatly, he started wondering whether Russia was actually a danger to England, or just messing with him.

* * *

What do you guys think about it? Don't worry, America won't be too much of a bother later on. I'll kick in some other interesting things. Is there anyone who remembers Arthur, the little boy from the park? Seems like ages ago. Anyone interested in seeing him again, or would you guys prefer seeing someone else?

**Review~**


	9. Chapter 9

So whenever I say I'll try updating more it just gets worse so I won't be promising anything now. Here's another chapter and I hope you like it. Once again,** I am really terribly sorry** for taking so long to update.  
This chapter hasn't been betaread. Sorry for any typos or errors!  
Enjoy~

* * *

England lay in her bed. The room was dark, the house silent and peaceful. It was past midnight and she was almost certain the two other nations had fallen asleep by now. She listened to the silence. It was so loud. Her body was tired but her mind played with many thoughts. Her eyes flickered from one side of her room to the other. She could distinguish the curtains, and their merely visible floral pattern. A sigh rolled over her lips. It was so silent. There wasn't anything distract her from her random thoughts that didn't bring her anywhere. She could almost hear the blood rushing through her head.

Her legs slipped from underneath the blanket. She raised herself up with her elbows, and got up. The fluffy carpet softly tickled her feet as she walked towards the window. It was a chilly night, but she opened the window anyway. A gust of cold air whooshed past her, into her room. She inhaled the icy wind. A shiver ran over her spine. She left the window slightly opened, closed the curtains over them, and returned to her bed.

The soft rustle of the wind that breezed through the leaves was comforting. A few birds were still singing gently. England exhaled slowly, and listened to the wind that was howling outside.

Cold air slowly filled the room, but she felt warm and safe underneath her blanket. The warmth was soothing and she pulled up her knees to her chest. Her toes and fingers were cold. For a moment she imagined two warm hands holding hers. Two big, warm hands, calloused and strong, but despite their rough looks, they were gentle.

She saw his face, and his purple eyes that would stare at her as she talked to him, or even if she didn't say a word. She had always thought he was distant and certainly not bothered by what she had to say. They had in fact never been more than polite. They had never been more than that. They had been enemies, allies, but most of the time they were rather distant.

She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't want to get closer to him, and yet she felt like they were already closer than she thought. But why would he want to be with her, to get closer? And who was he actually, next to everything other people told her about him? Maybe that was why he was on her mind right now. Maybe she just wanted to find out who he was. If only she could know whether it was worth doing that, without getting closer to him. She didn't want to expose herself, but she knew that that would be inevitable.

People around her were closer to Russia than she was. They knew more. America could go on and on about Russia, but usually not in a positive sense. France had some history with him as well, some better and some worse. Canada didn't have much history, but she was a friend of his, and sometimes they would play ice hockey together. England didn't want to hear their opinion though. She was afraid that he had so many different faces for everyone that she would have to figure out which one was the right one.

Maybe he would leave tomorrow. Maybe he would turn back to the regular Russia, and go away. She had mixed feelings about that. If Russia would leave, things would go back to normal. Her 'normal' life wasn't bad at all; it was quite peaceful. She wouldn't have to worry, or lie awake at night to think about him. She couldn't deny that she would also be a little sad though, but she wasn't sure what part exactly would sadden her. Well, somehow something would happen, right now she would just have to wait how that would go.

Her eyes closed, and drifted off to a peaceful dream.

* * *

"England," a voice pulled her out of her dreams, "Wake up, England."

"America?" she muttered into her pillow.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and he gently shook her.

America bent down to her, "Breakfast is ready."

She blinked a few time, and pushed herself up a little. Her green eyes met his bright blue ones. He smiled brightly, and stepped away from her. He opened the curtains. It seemed to be a nice day with a little sunshine, even though it wasn't that warm outside. America told her to come downstairs in her pyjamas or a bathrobe, because the omelette was already served and waiting for her. She nodded, and got up. He left her room. She stretched and looked out of the window. It was indeed a nice day.

Downstairs the smell of the omelette and fresh bread greeted her. She entered the kitchen, and seated herself next to America.

"Good morning," Russia said while sitting down as well.

"Morning," She slowly picked her fork up.

They finished breakfast about twenty minutes later. England told them that she had some work to do, but America pouted.

"No," he whined, "You have a whole week to work, let's do something more interesting now!"

"Like what?" She asked.

Russia was doing the dishes meanwhile, staying out of the conversation. He listened to what they said, and hoped America would leave soon. When he had finished cleaning, he turned to them.

"When do you leave?" He asked bluntly, interrupting their chat.

"I'll tell you if you tell me when _you_ leave," America huffed.

England rubbed her temples, "Please stop fighting."

"We're not fighting," America immediately said.

"We're talking," Russia added.

She shot them a glare.

"Let's watch a movie!" America shouted enthusiastically, ignorant of her glare.

Both England and Russia frowned.

"But it's 11am or something. Shouldn't you watch movies in the evening?" She asked.

America shook his head, "I'm not here anymore in the evening."

"What movie?" Russia asked, glad the American was leaving that day.

Watching a movie wasn't actually a bad idea. He figured that during the movie, America would shut up. He could think about some things while pretending to be watching.

"Texas Chainsaw 3D," America grinned.

Russia rolled his eyes, "If it's about teens and a guy with a chainsaw, I don't want to see it."

So an hour later they were watching the movie anyway. America had brought a few horrors with him actually, and hoped they could watch most of them. Russia sat in the sofa next to America, since England had taken her place in the armchair. He didn't try to identify with anyone in the movie, or empathise with the characters. He had seen real things happen that were worse. America on the other hand seemed to have been dragged into the terror of the characters. Just when his thoughts were wandering off, a loud scream came out of the television. America was clearly startled, and grabbed Russia's lower arm. It hadn't lasted a full second before America pulled his arm back and pretended it hadn't happened. Russia rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting. When Russia looked at the American's face from the corner of his eyes, he assumed the American was forgetting his environment, and concentrating on the action.

A few hours passed, and they had watched two movies. In the little pause between the movies, Russia had taken his sweater off. He had noticed that England had looked at him subtly when he pulled it off. Or hadn't she? He wasn't sure whether he had imagined it, but it was a nice thought. It was almost 2pm when they were finally done with watching television. England stood up and announced she was quickly going to the toilet. When she left, there were a few seconds of silence lingering between the two nations.

"So, I guess you'll be hanging our here for a while."

Russia looked up at America, and nodded in response.

America smiled, though it was close to a smirk, "Just know that whatever you're doing isn't going to stay unnoticed. And I'll be right there to kick your ass if you make a single misstep."

Again, Russia nodded, not bothering to find the right words for a proper answer. In some way, he felt a bit relieved. America seemed to have accepted his stay at England's place, and would hopefully keep some distance. England came back.

"Maybe we should get some lunch?" She suggested.

America smiled brightly, "Yeah! I'm starving!"

Russia agreed. He was hungry as well, but didn't feel the need to say this out loud.

After lunch, they headed towards the airport. They waited twenty minutes before America could finally leave. England hugged him tightly and told him to call her as soon as he would be home. She urged him to be careful and so on. Russia didn't wand to listen to what she said, yet he caught every word precisely. He was suddenly stuck with feeling like and outsider. He was just stiffly attending America's departure, waiting until he could breathe at ease. Seeing England so worried and caring towards the other nation didn't please him. America was her former colony. Despite the Revolution War, they had almost always gotten along. He felt like a stranger. Moreover, he felt jealous. Her care for him was a way of showing that she loved him. Love, the way you love your family, but love nevertheless. Even the way she almost acted motherly made him slightly envious.

Finally, America left. Russia was relieved. There was no opponent anymore. He could have England all to himself. He felt greedy, the old sensation of wanting someone for himself. Though it was different, as if it came in a new form. He didn't want England to obey him, neither did he long for her territory or body. Yes, she was beautiful, but he definitely didn't want her just for her round face with pinkish lips, for her golden locks, or her small figure and slim waist. He wasn't sure what he wanted from her, but for now, her closeness was enough.

"So, are we going back?"

England nodded, "It's late, we probably should."

"It's a nice evening, and it's just a little over 8pm. How about eating somewhere in a restaurant?"

They made their way to the car, parked somewhere on the big car park. The sky was slowly but surely turning darker.

England pursed her lips, "I guess it's too late to make dinner when we get home."

"Do you know a good restaurant?" Russia asked, looking ahead, seeing her car in the distance.

"Yes, it's only ten minutes away."

"Let's go there."

England turned to face him, "It's kind of expensive though."

"That's fine, I'll pay," He felt a little smile tugging his lips, but kept looking forward.

Her eyes rested on his smile. A cold gust of wind blew in their face, but she didn't feel it. Instead, she suddenly felt a wave of heat go through her body. She blushed madly as she thought about what they had just said. Russia still didn't look at her, but she knew that he knew she was staring at him. The little smile still played on his lips. Quickly, she looked down again, hoping she would stop blushing soon.  
_She had just been asked out on a date._

* * *

So, do you like it? Don't you like it? Please tell me what you think about it, even if it's very short! I appreciate reviews very much and they help me to get motivated for writing. And now that America's gone, Russia and England can maybe really get closer! Or... ?

**Review~**


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